


Destiny Intertwined

by VinoAmore



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-10 01:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12900723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VinoAmore/pseuds/VinoAmore
Summary: Prompt:A marriage law is passed just before the Christmas holidays. Hermione is matched with a former Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov...and Hermione is furious. "Why is this happening?!" she demanded. "He tried to kill me!"**Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling and I appreciate her allowing us to express our creativity in her world. All original ideas/characters that are being introduced in this story are mine. I am not making any profit off this. It's just for the love of writing.Special thanks to my amazing beta AlexandraO. Who is brilliant and so much fun to work with. So glad you're with me on this journey. :~)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DFFandCabalChristmasFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DFFandCabalChristmasFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  A marriage law is passed just before the Christmas holidays. Hermione is matched with a former Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov...and Hermione is furious. "Why is this happening?!" she demanded. "He tried to kill me!"
> 
> **Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling and I appreciate her allowing us to express our creativity in her world. All original ideas/characters that are being introduced in this story are mine. I am not making any profit off this. It's just for the love of writing.
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing beta AlexandraO. Who is brilliant and so much fun to work with. So glad you're with me on this journey. :~)
> 
>  

 

 

It was Friday morning and Hermione bustled around her kitchen preparing herself tea and breakfast. It was ten days before Christmas, and in a move entirely unlike her, she had taken time off work. It had been quite a while since she had taken any time for herself and a long holiday sounded appealing. She was situated at her kitchen table overlooking her lovely view of a snow-covered Diagon Alley when her floo roared to life.

“Hermione, are you there?” Harry called through the floo, “I need to talk to you. Can I come through?”

Hermione hurried over to the fireplace and ducked her head to talk to Harry. “Hi, Harry, is everything alright?”

“I really need to talk to you. Can I come through with Ron and Kingsley?”

Looking down at herself, she was still in her pajamas. “Sure, give me ten minutes to change then you all can come through. I'll start tea for everyone.”

Ten minutes later Hermione was pouring everyone tea as they gathered in her flat. All three men were silent, and she knew better. It wasn't like any of them to be so tense around her. When she couldn't take the awkward silence any longer, she finally spoke up.

“What has got you all so anxious? Is everything alright?”

Kingsley rolled his eyes and took the lead when Harry and Ron both looked down at their tea. “Hermione, we’re here because two days ago the Wizengamot held a secret meeting to vote on a new law,” pausing, he cleared his throat trying to formulate the right words to tell her.

“What new law? I haven't heard of anything?”

“That's because it's been top secret for over a year now. The Ministry wouldn't allow it to be leaked to the public for fear of any backlash. But last month, it was completed and turned over to the Wizengamot for a full evaluation and a vote,” Kingsley responded hesitantly.

Hermione’s stomach began to twist at the pale faces of both Ron and Harry. She also noticed Kingsley’s brow began to glisten with sweat.

“Will one of you please tell me what this law is and why you felt the need to come to my flat in person and tell me about it? By the looks on all of your faces, you'd think everyone was being forced to...I don't know, marry a Death Eater,” she laughed then took a sip of her tea.

All three men shot their heads up, and their eyes were wide with complete shock.

“Hermione, I think you should read this,” Ron said timidly as he handed her a letter with a Ministry seal addressed to her.

She looked at him skeptically but took the letter from his grasp. She looked at all three wizards, and none of them met her gaze. Placing her tea on the table before her, she opened the letter to read it.

Harry and Ron winced as her facial expressions changed from curiosity to disbelief, to sheer rage.

“What!" She exclaimed as she shot out of her seat and began pacing with the letter still in hand, her magic crackling around her as she read it again, she had to be missing something. “This can't be right. What is the meaning of this? Is this some kind of sick joke? A marriage law? It's completely barbaric! How did this pass? Who has the audacity to think they can control someone's life like this?! Do they even know who any of us will be paired with?”

“Read the second page,” Harry responded quietly as he ran his hand through his dark, messy hair. Hermione looked at Ron who was swiping his hand down his face.

Hermione turned to the second page, and her face went white as a ghost, and she lost her balance. Stumbling back into her seat as her hands shook with a mix of rage and horror.

“Antonin Dolohov? _Bloody Antonin Dolohov!_ He tried to kill me! Why is this happening!?”

“I'm sorry, Hermione, but a handful of Death Eaters were set free after their participation in the rehabilitation program that you had a large hand in creating and he was one of them. The war caused so much division and death in our society. The Wizengamot thought this would be a way to reunite our people again and mend those bridges destroyed by prejudice and hate that fueled the War. They want to end the ideology of supremacy once and for all,” Kingsley spoke as if his speech were rehearsed. Even he knew it was a load of rubbish, but right now he had to do everything he could to keep the peace. This would be the reaction from a majority of people affected by this law. He knew what was coming.

Looking up she made eye contact with Kingsley; she felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she vividly recalled the battle in the Department of Mysteries. “Do you know his curse literally would have killed me had I not thought to silence him mid curse? I had to take ten potions a day for nearly a year. I barely survived. Still, none of it matters to the bloody Wizengamot,” Hermione clenched her teeth and took a deep breath before continuing.

“It says here in the letter, if I refuse to comply, I will be fined twenty-five thousand galleons and thrown into Azkaban for ten years. So none of what he did to me, has any bearing on my being forced to marry him? How was I even paired with him? I'm nearly half his age! Wouldn't they want to pair me with someone closer to my own age? Wouldn't we have more in common? Did they just draw names randomly out of a fucking hat?!” The more questions she asked, the more her ire grew.

Hermione looked down at the parchment in front of her and couldn't take her eyes off the name, Antonin Dolohov. Needing to think on something else, she looked up at Harry and Ron. “Do either of you know who you've been paired with yet?”

“I'm paired with Pansy Parkinson,” Harry responded with hesitation.

“I’m paired with Sophie Roper, she was a Slytherin in our year, but she did fight on our side. I'm not sure why she is paired with me,” Ron chimed in.

“I believe her father was a sympathizer. So she went against her family affiliations in the final battle,” Kingsley responded.

“So is every eligible member of the Order paired with a Death Eater or sympathizer? Harry with Pansy Parkinson? She was ready to hand him over to Voldemort herself. How could they pair Harry with someone like her? How was the pairing determined exactly?” Hermione questioned, still angry.  
  
“Two years ago, every witch and wizard was required to complete a Magical post-war census. Between the responses to the questions, your magical signature, which is given to the Ministry when you begin your first year at Hogwarts and for you three, your stance in the war. All of that information was used in a Magical formulation based on highly complex arithmancy to gain the best potential matches for each individual. After the potential pairings were narrowed down for a specific witch or wizard they, in turn, used a highly complex method of magical matchmaking to pair you with the one person who would compliment your magic and intellect. It's taken two years to gather all the information and execute this plan. You three were the first they paired and the first to receive your letters,” Kingsley informed.

“So we're their guinea pigs?” Hermione spat still seething.

“No, you will be the _examples_ , not test subjects. Everyone has been paired and will receive their letters in one week. This is happening, but you three can expect to be in the spotlight,” Kingsley answered.

“When will Antonin, Pansy, and Sophie receive their letters?” Harry questioned.

“They will receive theirs tomorrow. This was simply a courtesy to all of you. I didn't want any of you to be blindsided by this,” Kingsley replied as he took a deep breath and looked at the trio before continuing. “I'm asking for a favor in return.”

“You want us to cooperate. You want us to smile for the camera and the public. Act like this is all normal and we're alright with it. Is that it?” Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms. 

Kingsley, at the very least, had the decency to look ashamed. “Yes. It will help my position. I have to uphold this law whether I agree with it or not. It would help me immensely if you three would support me. Maybe not the law, but me. I'm asking as a friend. I know this is complete rubbish and as soon as I can find a reason to abolish this ridiculous law, you have my word I will. But the way you three have reacted is the way a majority of people will respond. If they see the golden trio following the law, perhaps the backlash won't be as bad. You can rest assured, I voted against it. But if I step down because of this, it leaves a door open for someone who voted for it to take my position and never work on abolishing it. So please, do this for me?”

Hermione looked from Harry to Ron, then back to the letter in her hand. She gently sat the letter on the table in front of her as she stood to get a bottle of Wizards Bourbon and four glasses. This decision called for a drink stronger than Butterbeer. She handed them each a glass.

Harry took a drink then leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. He studied the contents of his glass in deep contemplation.

Running a hand through his red hair and releasing a long sigh, Ron took a much needed drink. He hated awkward silences and saw that Kingsley was beginning to slump his shoulders in defeat. He decided to be the first to speak up.

“I'll do it for you, Kingsley.”

Harry and Hermione both slowly raised their eyes to study Ron's face then met each other's gaze.

“I'll do it for you as well. But I want it to be known that I am adamantly opposed to this asinine law. I do not appreciate being used as a tool of manipulation by the ministry to help control the public,” Harry spoke heatedly.

Hermione's gaze was still stuck on the name of the former Death Eater she was being forced to marry. She could feel the heat of all three gazes boring into her. The tension in the room was so palpable you could almost taste it. She downed her Bourbon before she ran a hand through her hair. She dropped her head in her hands and let out a grunt of frustration. She lifted her head and eyed Kingsley once more.

“This is so unfair! Haven't we all sacrificed enough for our world? Now they are mercilessly taking away our right to choose a partner? Our right to fall in love and have a happy, normal life? I'm sorry, Kingsley. I cannot be alright with being forced to marry Antonin Dolohov. What if he's abusive? What if he loses his temper and curses me again? What statutes are in place to protect me from that? Would you want to be forced to live in a house and share a bed with a former Death Eater?”

Kingsley sighed in defeat and looked her in the eye. “No, Hermione, I wouldn't. But there are no loopholes. I know this is completely unfair, but at this point, you really don't have a choice. You all have the rest of the day to accept this. Please, Hermione, I don't want to have to throw you in Azkaban.”

Hermione looked back at the letter in complete disgust and her eyes stung with tears.

Harry stood and walked around the table to sit beside her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her in for a tight hug. “Everything will be alright Hermione. I'm well on my way to being head Auror. I will never allow anyone to hurt you again. He so much as looks at you in a way I deem unworthy, he'll be back in Azkaban quicker than he can say his name.”

Hermione chuckled as she wiped away stray tears.

“I give you my word Hermione, as Minister for Magic, I will not allow any harm to come to you. I, myself, have spoken with Antonin after his rehabilitation. He truly regrets his actions and his past. He has served his time and has willingly accomplished everything the program required of him. Please, Hermione, I need you on our team. The four of us could work diligently at abolishing this law when the time comes. But for now, will you comply?” Kingsley pleaded in a gentle tone.

Ron leaned forward and reached for Hermione's hand. Their fingers clutched together as her head stayed resting on Harry's shoulder.

“You're not alone in this. We need to stick together. We’ll all be here for one another. None of the Weasley men will allow anything to happen to you; you're family now whether you have our last name or not. Do this alongside us, we need you,” Ron implored.

Hugging Harry and holding Ron’s hand, Hermione looked at Kingsley. “Fine, I'll do it. I'll...marry Antonin Dolohov.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Kingsley stood as he finished his glass of Wizards Bourbon, secretly thanking Godric for the American witch who invented it. “I'll see myself out, but I'll be in touch. Try to enjoy the holidays.”

Kingsley stepped through the floo and left the trio to themselves.

“I should be going too. Mum and the family should know about this as well. It's going to be an incredibly long night at the Weasley house,” Ron stood to leave.

“Want me to stay Hermione? I'll stay with you all night if you want me to? Harry offered still holding tight to her shoulders.

“No, Harry, you should go with Ron. He's going to need some support. I just don't have it in me right now. I need time to process all this,” leaning up to kiss his cheek she pulled herself away. He stood but took hold of her hand. She looked back as hazel eyes met brilliant green.

“Everything will be alright, Hermione.”

All she could do was nod in response as he pulled away, turned and made his way to the floo. She barely registered him shouting his destination.

Hermione sat at her kitchen table once more and stared at the busy snow-covered street below, thinking of nothing but the brooding, dark wizard she was destined to marry.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Antonin Dolohov groggily walked from the kitchen to his small study taking sips of his black coffee. His flat was humble but perfect for him and above the bookshop he owned. He let out a sigh of exhaustion as he sank down into his favorite chair by the fire and ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. He hadn't slept well; his mind occupied with ways to help improve sales. Business hadn't been good lately and he knew why. No one trusted a Death Eater, reformed or otherwise. He couldn't blame them really.

He had been young and foolish when he allowed himself to be recruited by the powerful, charismatic Lord Voldemort. Promising a young man the world at his fingertips in exchange for seemingly very little was enticing enough to have many young men lining up to join the ranks of his followers. By the time he realized what exactly he had gotten himself into, it was too late; he was in too deep.

Staring into the fire, he took another sip, when a tapping on his window interrupted his thoughts. He stood to let the owl in and took the letter. He didn't recognize the owl, and it didn't wait for a response. He looked at the letter closer and noticed the Ministry seal as he opened it and sat back down to read it.

Upon reading the contents of the letter he felt his entire countenance crumble. “This has to be some kind of sick joke. Why would they pass such a horrible law? Who would they attempt to pair me with?” Mumbling to himself in his native tongue as he turned to read the second page. His eyes zoned in on the name of the witch he was to marry, and he froze completely. Vivid flashes of that fateful day assaulted his mind. Every time he saw her or heard her name spoken, all he saw was the purple flash shooting from the tip of his wand and her fierce, defiance that had no doubt saved her life.

He sat back in complete shock; there was no way this witch would ever marry him. No way he wanted to spend his life feeling guilty for one of his many horrible mistakes. He wanted to move on from his past as much as possible. He was planning on spending the rest of his life buried in his books. If he were to marry at all, he would return to Russia and find a witch who would love him regardless. His parents had a wonderful marriage and he wanted what they had. They truly loved one another.

Looking down at the letter again he couldn't take his eyes off the name Hermione Granger. This had to be a cruel mistake, and there was only one person he could go to for this. He stood up and rushed into his room to change. He was meeting with Kingsley today whether the Minister had time for him or not.

Stepping through the floo into the Ministry atrium, he bolted for Kingsley's office. Rushing past his secretary who attempted to stop him, he knocked on the door then opened before he heard a response.

Kingsley shot up out of his chair, wand in hand but not aimed. Antonin noticed Kingsley's countenance shifted the moment he recognized him.

“Mr. Dolohov, I have no doubt why you're here, bursting through my door unannounced this morning. Under the circumstances, I'll let it go this once,” turning he walked to a locked cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Wizards Bourbon, Firewhiskey, and two glasses. Walking back to his desk he sat and looked up at a pacing Antonin from across his desk. “Which do you prefer? I had this same conversation yesterday with Miss Granger. I have a feeling this won't be much different.”

Antonin stopped at the mention of Hermione and pointed to Wizards Bourbon as he took his seat. “She knew yesterday? This has to be a mistake. I’ve...I almost…,” he couldn't speak the words. So Kingsley finished his sentence for him.

“Killed her, Mr.Dolohov, you almost killed the brightest witch of her age, and according to her account, the only reason she survived was probably due to a silencing charm? Is that correct?”

Nodding his head, he took the glass of wizards Bourbon from the Minister and took a sip. The burn felt good and mingled perfectly with his emotions at the moment. “I was astounded by her swiftness of thought. Had many others thought to do the same they may have also survived. She was the only one to ever do that to me,” Antonin solemnly spoke as he studied his glass. “I have no doubt she was irate at the very prospect of marrying me.”

“You could say that,” sitting his glass down he looked at Antonin Dolohov in a whole new light. The brooding wizard was clearly recalling a memory he regretted. “Mr. Dolohov, I'm going to do something that I vowed never to do when I took this position. I'm going to set aside my title as Minister for the duration of this, one time, conversation. Let me make perfectly clear, the only reason I've allowed your intrusion today is because of Hermione Granger. She is one of many who suffered and sacrificed a great deal for Harry, Ron, The Order and for the betterment of our society. Now she's being forced to marry a man who almost killed her.”

Antonin gripped his glass and lowered his head in anger and regret as he took a drink of his Bourbon. When he looked up ready to defend himself and met Kingsley's gaze, he didn't see any condemnation. Instead, he saw empathy.

“I see the look on your face; you're a man who truly regrets his poor decisions and their consequences. I told Hermione as much yesterday when Harry, Ron and I delivered the letter to her. The three of them and their partners will be under the scrutiny of the media and the public. You and two other witches are receiving this letter a week earlier than everyone else. Normally, I wouldn't divulge such information to you, nor will I for any other person who seeks me out over this law. But as a favor to a friend and a favor to you; a man who truly is sorry, I'm making an exception. I can't change what's happening. I wish I could, but as I said to Hermione yesterday, there are no loopholes and no getting around this. You both have one month to get to know each other, plan a wedding and sort out the details of your life together. All three couples are expected to marry by the end of January. I suggest you do whatever it takes to make things work with her. I know Hermione will comply, She's given me her word.”

Antonin didn't know what to say. She had agreed to marry him? He finished his drink and looked at Kingsley. “I should go and write her a letter then. We don't have much time to waste. Thank you for your time Minister Shacklebolt.”

“Today, I wasn't the Minister; I was a friend Antonin, call me Kingsley. If you're going to be married to Hermione, you'll be seeing a lot of me,” extending his hand of friendship to Antonin, he looked the Russian wizard in the eye and stood.

Taking his hand, Antonin met his gaze. “Thank you, Kingsley. I have a lot to do. Just one question, what's her favorite flower?”

Kingsley smirked, “If I'm not mistaken, I believe it's the lavender rose.”

“Thank you. I'll leave you to your work.” He turned and walked out.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione was seated at her desk, quill in hand, blank parchment in front of her and crumbled up parchment scattered around her. She had been there for over an hour. What does one say to a person they are being forced to marry with the kind of history they have? Everything she started writing either seemed too cold and callus or cliche. She didn't want to come across as either. A tap at her window startled her out of her thoughts.

She opened the window for a great horned owl. His espresso brown feathers were adorned with soft copper and white spots and had the most intense, piercing blue eyes. He was absolutely beautiful. “Well, hello there, I don't believe I've seen you before. You are quite a lovely owl aren't you?” She reached out to pet the bird, and he leaned into her touch as he waited for her response. She picked up a few treats and laid them before him while she read.

 _Miss Granger,_  
_How does one begin such a correspondence? I received a very informative letter today from the Ministry, in regards to the both of us.I would be honored, if you would join me_ _tonight_ _for_ _a_ _private_ _dinner_ _at_ _Anna’s_ _Attic_ _bookshop_ _at_ _six?_   _It_ _seems_ _we_ _have_ _much_ _to_ _discuss_. _Rodion_ _has_ _been_ _instructed_ _to_ _wait_ _for_ _your_ _reply_. _I_ _hope_ _to_ _hear_ _from_ _you_ _soon_.

_-Antonin Dolohov_

His demeanor seemed pleasant enough in the letter. She sat down at her desk and began her reply. Rolling the note, she placed it on Rodion. With one more nuzzle of affection into her hand, he flew out the window.

Hermione's stomach was in knots, and she needed to relax in a hot bath with her favorite wine. Walking into the bath she turned on the water and added her favorite oils and bubbles. Walking back to her room to choose her dress for the evening. She decided on a slightly off the shoulder sweater dress. Nothing provocative but pretty all the same.

With wine in hand and bubbles just right, she was happy to sink deep into the water. Trailing a finger over the scar that was a constant reminder of Antonin. Her mind wandered to the same man who had kept her up all night and occupied her thoughts all day. Knowing this marriage had to happen, didn't make it any easier but she had accepted it. She would put on a brave face for the sake of Kingsley, Harry, and Ron. She would smile for the public, but could she truly forgive the man who would be smiling next to her? That was what she had to determine. Forgiveness would be mandatory in order for their marriage to work. Could she forgive him and move forward? Could she freely give herself; heart, mind, body, and spirit to Antonin Dolohov? Was it possible?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say how overwhelmed I am at the response I got from the first chapter of this story. I am so delighted that you all enjoyed it so much! To everyone who read, favored, followed and took the time to review; you all are amazing and wonderful! I was so pleased by the reception, I really hope the rest of this story is just as enthralling for you.
> 
> I want to say a huge thank you to my lovely and wonderful Alpha/Beta team SandraSempra & AlexandraO. You both are so amazing. I am so very blessed to have you both on this journey with me. You both are exceptionally talented in your own right and I highly respect you both. Love you both so much!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter and as always I am encouraged to hear your thoughts. So leave a review if you led to :~)

It was a quarter to six and Antonin was busy in his kitchen finishing their dinner. He chose his favorite dish from his homeland, Solyanka, hoping to show her a small part of the man he was - before he was the man he became; the only part of him she knew. He was determined to change her image of him. Levitating the stew pot down the stairs to his bookshop, he had closed early for the night, setting up a table in a private corner of the store.

He was hoping she wouldn't mind the location of their first date - he had invested all of his savings into the bookshop and didn't have much of it left over. He lit a few candles and set the flowers he bought for her out when he heard the musical tinkling of the bell chime above the shop door.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione approached the bookshop apprehensively and stood in wonderment as to why she hadn't been here before with as much as she loved books. It was somewhat hidden - it's location not as prominent - and it didn't help that the sign above the door was rather small and unnoticeable. Turning the knob, the bell above jingled overhead as she stepped inside, echoing almost cheerily off the shelves of the small shop. Almost instantly, the most delicious, mouthwatering aroma hit her senses as she walked further into the bookshop. She was about to call out when a husky voice caught her attention.

“Miss Granger. Thank you for agreeing to meet me tonight, welcome to my bookshop.” His tone appeared nervous, conflicting with his tense mannerisms as he greeted her. "I hope you don't mind meeting here. I figured, with the level of scrutiny we will, no doubt be under when everything is revealed, it would be nice to have a little privacy for our first meeting. Let me help you with your coat,” Antonin was rambling, his nervousness evident as he assisted her in removing her coat and placing it on a nearby hook. Gesturing with his hand he ushered her to the back of the shop.

He led her through the aisles of wooden bookshelves filled to the brim with books of all kinds. Hermione noticed muggle titles and magical titles alike as she scanned each aisle with great interest. She saw a section for Rare Books, Classical Fiction, Poetry, Science, Arithmancy, Magical Creatures, Divination, Astronomy, Transfiguration, and so much more. They stepped through a large, intricately decorated wooden archway into a cozy nook. The space was adorned with soft lighting and a small table covered with a deep green cloth and a beautiful bouquet of lavender roses. The ambiance was quite _romantic_.

Looking at Antonin, she was taken aback - the amount of thought and time he obviously put into this had her furrowing her brows. He must have known her thoughts on the display because he leaned in close enough to where she could breath in a beautiful mix of spices, obviously from the cooking, and felt it suited his somewhat rugged appearance. He spoke just above a whisper, his Russian accent prevalent as he spoke.

“I do have a bit of a romantic side, although not many have ever seen it. It's something I reserve for those closest to me. But in this situation, I feel we will be growing to know each other quite well.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right.” Looking back at the flowers, she was delighted to see he chose her favorite. “The lavender roses are beautiful. They're my favorite, you know.” Bending down, she allowed her senses to fill with the soft fragrance of the beautiful flower; she couldn't help but smile.

“I may have asked Kingsley about that, I hope you don't mind.” Antonin pulled out a chair, motioning for her to sit at the table.

“Not at all, it was quite thoughtful of you. Honestly, I'm shocked Kingsley even knows. Harry or Ron must have mentioned it to him at some point.” She found her brows furrowing again in contemplation as Antonin presented a bottle to her.

“Would you like some wine? I have a delicious vintage that's been waiting to be enjoyed.”

“Yes, please, that sounds lovely.” She addressed him directly, keeping up formalities.

He poured them both a glass of wine and took his seat across from her. The atmosphere was tense as neither knew where the conversation should begin. So Antonin took the initiative, clearing his throat.

“Hermione, may I call you Hermione?”

“Yes, I suppose it would be rather awkward if you continued to refer to me as Miss Granger.” Glancing down at her wine glass, she brought it to her lips for a casual sip.

“Hermione, I know this entire situation is nothing either of us had in mind for our futures.”

Hermione let out an undignified snort and a dry chuckle at his words. “No, it's not. I'll be honest, Antonin, I don't want to go through with this, but I will because I have no other choice. Marrying a former Death Eater who has tried to kill me isn't quite the idea I had in mind when I thought about marriage.”

Antonin stiffened at her words, his eyes reflecting hurt and regret. “I will not live my life in complete and total shame over past decisions. I do regret what I did, but I served my time, and I've done everything the ministry has required of me to prove I am, in fact, sorry and I will never be that person again.” As he spoke, his tone grew more direct, _determined_. He peered down into his glass, swishing the contents in his hand before taking a sip.

Her eyes flared, colliding with his words of self-proclaimed redemption and igniting a new revelation in his stance. “But you never apologized to _me_. I was sixteen years old when you hit me with that heinous curse. I will forever have the scar as a constant reminder every time I look in the mirror. And now,” Hermione paused, frustration building in her already tense shoulders, "now I am unable to shield that reminder in my own home because I'm forced to wake up to that _same_ reminder every day for the rest of my life!"

Antonin’s mahogany eyes flashed with indignation. He had never actually apologized to anyone specifically for anything he had done. Nor did he ever feel the need to. “So that's how this is going to be? You, condemning me every time you look in the mirror? Glaring at me with hate every morning we wake up together? Let me make something perfectly clear, _Hermione_ , I get enough of that from the hypocritical public, I will not tolerate it from my _wife_ of all people.”

Hermione's nostrils flared, and her rage mounted, she could feel her heart rate increase inside her chest. “I may have promised to support Kingsley, I may have agreed to comply with this insidious law for Harry and Ron, but they'll just have to do this without me. Nothing is worth this.” Throwing her napkin on the table, she stood without a word and made her way toward the exit.

Watching her storm off, Antonin pounded his fist on the table. Running his other hand through his hair, he grunted in utter frustration. The words of Kingsley came back to him - _I suggest you do whatever it takes to make things work with her. I know Hermione will comply. She's given me her word._ \- He didn't want to go back to Azkaban. Especially not over this witch refusing to marry him. He had worked too hard and come too far to end up back there over something like a stupid marriage law. Azkaban is where they both would end up if she didn't comply and he didn't deserve that, and neither did she. “Ty glupyy durak!” Cursing himself, he stood and ran after her, his own napkin falling to the floor at his racing feet. He had to make this work, and if an apology is what she wanted, he would give her that.

Hermione was beside herself with anger as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She was a complete fool to think he would ever apologize - to think a Ministry arranged marriage with a former Death Eater could ever be possible. Reformed or not, he would always be Antonin Dolohov, the man who had cursed her. She didn't stop to even put on her coat, only grabbing it off the hook and reaching for the door. She jerked it open forcibly when a firm grip on her arm made her jolt. His grip wasn't bruising at all, but she was shocked at the physical contact. Knowing who was on the other end of the hold, she clenched her jaw as her mind flashed through memories of the day she was unable to forget. Hermione's eyes slowly traveled from his hand, up the length of his arm and finally landed on his eyes. “Kindly unhand me, Antonin.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp.

Antonin’s brows furrowed at the sight of her watery eyes and fierce, defiant face. He had seen that expression on her once before. He remembered how much he hated that look then, already forever burned into his mind, but he hated it more to see it on her now. He had come so far for himself, doing right by the ministry and by him, but something in her eyes made him want to do right by her. He mentally vowed never to be the reason she ever made that face again. “Hermione, please don't go. I don't want this law forced on me any more than you do, but I didn't want tonight to turn out like this. You're right; I owe you an apology.” He made to reach out to her again, this time in comfort, but paused, knowing the contact was ill placed.

Seeing his repentant eyes and hearing his proclamation, she hesitantly moved from the door frame and closed the door behind her. Sighing she allowed her anger to subside slightly as she began playing out all the possible scenarios in her mind. Azkaban was not a place she wanted to end up. Not over something like a marriage law. Deciding to accept his plea and give him a chance to sincerely apologize, she replaced her coat on the hook once more and followed Antonin back to the table.

Before she took her seat again, Antonin looked into her fierce hazel eyes, “Moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, I am so very sorry for what has happened between us. I do regret everything I did to you. If I could do it all over again, there's so much I would have changed. But I can't, I have to live with my decisions, but I want to live a happy life where I'm not constantly haunted by my past." Antonin dropped his eyes from hers only a moment before meeting them again. His tone never losing the determined front he had before she made to leave, but softer somehow. " _Our_ past. I truly believe we could work. You're brilliant, beautiful, powerful, ambitious; you have an extraordinary spirit and a heart like no one I've ever met before. I can see it in your eyes, that's why you came back tonight. I want a chance, give me a fair chance, and I'll prove to you, Hermione, that I'm not the man I once was. People can change. I'm not a fool; I would never betray your trust or do anything to hurt you ever again. I regret that more than my words could ever express. Please, forgive me for everything, for _tonight_ , and for that scar.”

Hermione’s eyes lowered, and she wondered at what point he had taken her hand. The feeling of his hand in hers wasn't all bad, but she couldn't help slip her palm from his gentle grip. Through his speech, she could see the genuine feelings emanating from his dark eyes. He was indeed sorry, just like Kingsley had said.

“Yes, Antonin, I choose to forgive you.” Her back straightened as she caught his eyes again, flexing her jaw. “But my trust will have to come in time.”

He let out a breath, and couldn't suppress a slight smile. “I understand, and I'm willing to live with that. Over time, I know I will prove myself to you, and I'm confident I'll earn your trust. Thank you, Hermione.” His fingers twitched, he wanted to take her delicate hand in his once more, he wanted to gently kiss her fingers like a gentleman, but he settled for a gentle smile as he walked behind her to pull her chair out for a second time that evening.

Hermione accepted his kind gesture and took her seat. Antonin leaned down as he pushed her chair in for her, his breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. “Thank you, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, for choosing to forgive me.”

“You've called me that twice now. What does that mean?” Hermione peered over at him with curious eyes.

He gave a low chuckle at the bright expression in her gaze. “It means, my little lioness.”

“Oh, I rather like that.” She smiled slightly in spite of herself over the newfound knowledge.

“Are you hungry? I've made my favorite Russian stew for us, Solyanka. I hope you like it.”

“I love stew. It was kind of you to cook. Thank you.” Fidgeting with the edge of her napkin on her lap with one hand, she reached for her wine glass with the other as she continued to replay his proclamation of repentance over in her mind.

Something about his words and his intensity struck her. She hadn't expected such genuine heartfelt emotions from him, lost in her judgment of their brief but damaging past. She was seeing this new side for the first time and wondered what else they would come to discover in this forced union. She wanted to peel back the many layers that was Antonin Dolohov, and see him as the man he truly was.

Antonin smiled at her as he began to fill her bowl with stew. As he helped himself, he waited in anticipation to see whether or not she would like it. He had taken a significant amount of time to make it just as he remembered it. He wanted to share this small part of himself with her.

She tasted it as she hummed and nodded her head at the hearty flavor. “This stew is truly delicious.” She took note of how he almost glowed at her approval.

“Thank you. It's how my mama used to make it for my father.” He smiled to himself as if lost in a memory.

“So! This is your bookshop. Where did you come up with the name _Anna’s Attic?_ Is Anna someone you know?”

“I was an only child, but my mother's favorite story was by a Russian muggle author, Anton Chekhov, called _The Lady With The Dog._ One of the main characters of that story is Anna. She always said if she ever had a daughter, she would name her such. So, in honor of my mother who loved books and the name, I called my bookshop Anna’s Attic.”

Hermione took note he had mentioned his mother twice. She wanted to ask him about his parents but had a feeling it might be too deep of a question for a first date. After all, she wasn't ready to talk about her parents with him.

“How long has this shop been here? I love books, and I never knew about this place,” she asked taking a bite of her bread.

“I bought the shop about a month after I started the rehabilitation program. Part of the program is to show you're a ‘ _productive member of society_ ’.” He took a bite of his stew as his eyes scanned the walls of built-in wooden shelves lined with various books. A slight smile of satisfaction gracing his face. “It took me awhile to get it up and running. I had to acquire a lot of the muggle books myself. I wanted to mix both magical and muggle literature. But sadly, I don't know how much longer I can survive if I keep going days without customers. Business hasn't been good.”

Sipping her wine, Hermione's brain started turning. “This little corner of the shop is wonderful but nearly empty. Have you thought about what you want to do with it yet? I saw a staircase as well, is there another level of books or is it merchandise and storage up there?”

“The second floor is unfinished, but I have hopes to one day turn that into a children's section. The other bookshops don't cater to children, which I never understood why. I painted a Magical mural with a scene from a muggle fairy tale that was a personal favorite as a boy, and the magic brings it to life for the children. But I ran out of funds to complete that project, so it's left until I get more business. As for this area, I want to sell coffee and tea here eventually. This spot would be perfect for it.”

“You're an artist? Can I see the second level? I'd love to see what you painted. What muggle fairytale did you choose? They have so many wonderful stories to choose from.”

Antonin’s face brightened at her obvious interest in his talents and his shop. He couldn't help how delighted he felt at the prospect of her seeing his art and understanding it. With her being muggleborn he should have known, but for decades it had been ingrained in him not to expect much of anything from _mudbloods_. The very blood he was supposed to hate, but with a history he felt so close to. It felt good to have someone around who could appreciate both worlds and see the beauty as he always used to see in both. He stood and extended a hand to help her up. “I would love to show you.”

Hesitantly taking his hand, she gave him a tentative smile. As she followed him back through the rows of shelves, she couldn't help but dwell on how surprisingly lovely the shop was. It had a somewhat homey and cozy feel. She could spend days here and get lost among these many shelves of books. Perhaps her agreeing to help Kingsley wouldn't be _all_ bad -they could divorce after the law was abolished. She was enthralled by the collection of books he had, and despite the arrangement, she would have a safe place to pass the time if she should ever need it. This was a side to the former Death Eater she honestly never expected to exist. Smirking to herself slightly, she couldn't help but think this was another layer of himself he was choosing to reveal to her.

Walking up the spiral staircase behind him, she was so lost in thought; she didn't even notice his fingers still laced with hers. When the reality of their touch sunk in, however, she quickly removed her hand from his and crossed her arms.

They stopped at the top of the stairs as he waved his wand, instantly illuminating the whole second level. Hermione could see why he chose this space for children. The entire area was all wooden with low beams and gave off a very cozy, rustic feel. She could see it being in the setting of a fairytale: the woodwork was adorned with magical carvings of little woodland creatures. There were a couple of squirrels gathering acorns and playing on the limb of a tree. Two little chipmunks went flitting from one side of a wood beam to another as they playfully nipped at each other then ran to another spot. A deer was grazing in a grassy meadow as a family of rabbits went hopping by. There was a fox eating berries from a bush while a porcupine and her baby feasted off the opposite side. The entire scene made her smile brightly.

“These carvings are magnificent; it's like something out of a fairytale.”

“Thank you; I'm glad you like them. I was thinking of Robin Hood and Hansel and Gretel being lost in the woods while I was carving them.” His hand reached out and lightly touched the scene with the deer.

“You carved these?” Hermione's eyes were wide with shock. “It's all so breathtaking. You're quite talented.”

Taking her eyes off the magical carvings, she caught a glimpse of movement on the wall and focused her attention on the great magical mural before her. Looking at the mural she instantly knew what story it was. A young boy flew across a rainbow sky, zooming over a cove of mermaids, dipping down through a Native American village and finally landing on a large pirate ship. A character she knew to be Captain Hook stalked out to greet the boy called Peter Pan. The waterfalls in the mermaid cove sparkled under the scenic sun as the mermaids spent the time swimming and waving at her. All the while, a little fairy darted across the mural, leaving a trail of glittering fairy dust behind her toward a group of boys who looked to be dancing around a feast.

She turned her attention back to the pirate ship and saw that a sword fight had commenced between Peter Pan and Captain Hook. Taking a step back, she was in awe of the whole scene. The mural ran the entire length of the second-floor wall. It must have taken weeks to complete, if not months.

Watching her reaction to everything, he couldn't help but allow a brilliant smile to spread across his lips. He was proud of his hard work and was delighted someone could appreciate it the way she obviously did.

“Antonin, this is truly magnificent. You captured the magic of the story beautifully. Children will _love_ this.”

“Thank you; I'm glad you can appreciate it. The carvings took me longer to complete, but I'll admit, more of my heart went into the mural. This story was my constant companion for most of my childhood. My mother loved muggle and magical literature. I was raised to appreciate both.” He smiled brightly at her as he turned his attention back to the mural.

“I'm sorry if this is too forward but, if you can appreciate muggle culture, why did you join forces with a sociopath who preached blood supremacy and acted out so heinously towards anyone with a muggle heritage?” Hermione looked at him with genuine curiosity and a hint of determination in her eyes. She wasn't about to let him skirt around this question, and by the look on his face, he knew it.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair causing it to become more disheveled than it had been before. “Let’s sit; this is going to be a long story. But if you're going to be my wife, it's a story I want you to know.” He lead her to the opposite end of the room, where there was a covered bay window with a cushioned seat. He sat with his knee propped up, resting it against the window, his back against the wall. She curled her legs under her and got comfortable beside him. She was genuinely intrigued to hear his story. She had never had the opportunity to listen to a Death Eater tell their tale like this.

“S chego by mne nachat'? It's not like what you think Hermione. You need to understand the man, or rather creature, you knew is not who we all chose to follow. The man we followed was young, charismatic and charming. He knew all the right things to say; it's as if he could read our minds. Later we found that to be the case. But he gave such lovely speeches. At dinner parties, he was the most intellectually stimulating conversationalist of the entire evening if he was present. People _wanted_ him around; it was hard not to be captivated by his charisma. He wasn't a revolutionary; he was ambitious and affluent. Women wanted him, and men wanted to be him.” Pausing, he looked down and rolled up his sleeve to reveal his now faded mark.

“Once I took this mark though, I realized it was a whole different world - one I didn't want any part of. My father was a good man; he warned me to stay away from him; urged me not to be blinded by his promises of grandeur and pretty words. But I was young and foolish; I wanted to be influential, successful and powerful. This,” he said, gesturing to the mark on his arm. “This to me, wasn't a sign of hate when I took it - it was a mark of influence and power. Or so I was led to believe.

“When I was ready to begin school, my father didn't want me going to Durmstrang. Due to Grindelwald’s influence, it had a dark history. One my father wanted to spare me from. He moved us all here so I could attend Hogwarts instead.”

“What house were you sorted into?” She couldn't help herself from asking.

He chuckled through his nose and shook his head. “The house I wanted and begged that stupid hat to sort me into was Ravenclaw. The house I was sorted in was Slytherin. I was a half-blood from Russia who enjoyed muggle literature and music. I didn't think anything of it. Until one day early in my first year, I was taught a painful lesson by some of the purebloods about what they thought of muggles and muggleborns. Luckily no one knew about my heritage that day.” He looked down as if lost in thought scratching his beard.

“You're not pureblood? I thought you were.” She furrowed her brows in curiosity, and her tone was surprised.

“Most people do because of who my father was. I could get away with telling them I was pureblood. But my mother was half-blood. My grandfather on my mother's side was a muggle. I don't remember much of him; he died when I was only five. But I know he loved mama. She would tell me stories of him often. She wanted me to grow up proud of both my magical and muggle heritage. When I came to Hogwarts though, I learned very quickly to hide it. You see, Hermione, I was an outcast here. I was away from my home, with no friends my entire first year. I didn't know what was acceptable or not in Britain. So when I was fourteen, and an affluent young man showed interest in me, showed me I could one day be like him: powerful, influential, wealthy, charismatic, accepted and envied, it was like honey to a bee.”

“They recruited you at only _fourteen_?” Hermione's brows shut up in surprise, although she didn't know why. Harry was recruited by Dumbledore at the mere age of eleven to face Voldemort when he was using Professor Quirrell as a life force. Age didn't matter to those who could use others to benefit their own agendas.

“Younger for some, of course, we didn't take the mark until we were of age. After the initial confrontation with my housemates, warning me of what was expected of a Slytherin, I spent my entire first year alone with my books, the library became my best friend. In my second year, we had an American transfer student from Ilvermorny who took a particular interest in becoming my friend. AJ and I had quite a lot of the same things in common. Neither of us was interested in Lord Voldemort or his followers at first. But we were lured into their world with luxurious parties where they introduced us to some of the most influential magical people from all over the world. It was all so captivating. It was extravagance beyond anything I had ever seen before in my humble upbringing.” Looking down at his arm, his brows furrowed with a despondent look in his eyes.

His story enthralled Hermione. She had never once stopped to think of him as anything more than the terrifying Death Eater he was known to be. Searching his eyes as they stayed focused on his scar, for the first time, she saw the man.

She fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater as curiosity got the better of her. “Is AJ another Death Eater?”

Peering up to meet her curious gaze he nodded his head. “Atticus Jugson, he's currently part of the rehabilitation program. He stays in a flat not far from here.”

“Jugson? I feel as though that name sounds familiar. But I don't recall him.”

Leaning forward, he gazed at her face and bit his lower lip. “He was fighting alongside me the night we...had our first encounter. AJ and I are still very close friends.”

“Oh, I see. Well, that explains why I recognized the name.” Folding her arms across her chest, she flexed her jaw as flashes of that night ran through her mind again. _Would she ever be able to get over that night? Would this underline tension always be a wedge between them?_ She furrowed her brows at the troubling thought. She looked down at her lap then slowly lifted her eyes to meet his again.

Running a hand down his face, Antonin took a deep breath before continuing. “Hermione, he's just as sorry for everything he's done as I am. He's been my close friend for most of my life and truly is like a brother to me. I would greatly appreciate it if you would give him a chance and not judge him too harshly.”

Hermione studied his face once more that night as she contemplated his request for a moment. “You're using our first meeting to ask me to give your friend a chance as well as forgive you?”

Searching his mahogany eyes for any sign of deceit, she only found hesitation.

Antonin shook his head, looked down and ran his free hand through his hair, almost in frustration. “Ya ne mogu poverit', chto ya takoy smelyy,” he muttered to himself in Russian before gazing at her face once more and continuing. “I know asking all this of you is rather bold and audacious, but my family is gone. He's the closest thing to family I've had in a long time. When I marry you, you will become my family. It would mean a great deal to me if you would do this.”

His words struck a chord with her. She knew what it was like not having a family. Or rather, to have an adoptive family - Harry was the closest thing to family she had. Hermione could empathize with his plea as she too had hoped Harry and Antonin could get along. “I can't promise that I'll like him, Antonin, but I will promise to keep an open mind when I meet him.”

Smiling, he leaned in closer to her. “Thank you moya malen'kaya l'vitsa. I do have much more to tell you. I want you to know everything before we wed, but it's getting late.”

“Yes, you're right. I suppose we should probably call it a night.” They both stood from their seats and made their way back down to the lower level.

“I was informed that we will be expected to marry by the end of January. I suppose we have quite a bit to discuss and plan before then. Would you like to meet tomorrow for lunch and perhaps we should begin discussing our future plans before the public knows and we never have a moment of privacy again?” Hermione suggested as Antonin retrieved her coat from the hook and assisted her in putting it on.

“I would like that very much. Would you be able to come back here? Unfortunately, I'm the only one here to run the bookshop. But we’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“That sounds nice. I'll bring lunch.I have no other plans tomorrow, so we’ll have plenty of time to talk things through.”

Helping her with her coat, she stepped towards the door when he stopped her. “Would you prefer the floo? It's rather dark and cold out. Unless you'd like me to accompany you back home? I'm always happy to take a brisk walk.”

Touched by his kindness, she smiled. “Thank you Antonin, but I'll be alright. My flat is not far from here. Besides, it appears enjoying a walk is something we have in common.”

Concern evident in his eyes, he conceded. “As you wish. What time can I expect you tomorrow?”

She opened the door, the bell jingling its tune above her. “How does half-past twelve sound?”

“That sounds perfect. I'll be waiting. Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Goodnight, Antonin.”

With that, she turned and exited the shop with a small smile gracing her face. She left feeling slightly more confident than she had when she initially arrived. Walking back to her flat, she ran through the events of the evening in her mind. Their heated argument, his plea for forgiveness, and she couldn’t help but accept his apology for his past transgressions. Although she was telling the truth in that, she didn't yet trust him.

His artwork had amazed her, and his story was truly captivating. She wasn't ready to say she was at peace with everything that had transpired after only one night, and she still had to work through accepting this whole marriage law idea, but perhaps it won't be as bad as she had initially expected it all to be. However, there was something that was bothering her. She felt as though he was holding something back with his story. She had more questions but will have to wait to hear the rest of what he had to say before she had the answers she needed. They would have plenty of time.

Walking into her flat, she decided on a hot bath and a glass of wine to end her evening. As she poured herself a glass, there came a tapping at her window. Walking over, She opened it to see Rodion holding a single lavender rose with a note attached.

_Hermione,  
Call me old-fashioned, but I like to know my lady made it home safely. Enjoy your rose moya malen'kaya l'vitsa._

_~ Antonin_

Smiling softly, she brought the rose up and inhaled its lovely fragrance. Sitting at her desk, she quickly wrote a short reply and attached it to Rodion, watching the owl fly away in the direction of the bookshop. It had been a much more lovely evening than she could have ever hoped for, given the circumstances. Perhaps there was hope for an amicable relationship between them after all. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for the kind reviews and for the follows. It means so much that you've taken the time to read my story. Sorry for the long awaited update but I really hope you'll find it worth the wait. I hope you enjoy my take on the canon character Jugson. He doesn't have a first name in the books, so I named him Atticus and he also goes by AJ. I'm excited to be introducing him in this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter as it is almost all Antonin's perspective.
> 
> A very special thank you as always to the lovely and incredibly talented Sandra-Sempra and AlexandraO for your Alpha/Beta work. Thanks for being my cheerleaders and taking the time to help make this story so wonderful. I adore you both!

  
It was a quarter past eight the next morning when Antonin opened his register. The ding of the antique machine was somehow a comfort to him - silly as that may have sounded -his thoughts always turning to his father when he heard the reposing sound. As a child, he would often help his father in the dragonhide shop they owned in Russia. He would recall him smiling at customers and teaching the values of a hard day’s work. His heart clenched when he thought of his father. He would never stop missing him; _either_ of his parents really. He had been thinking of them both more in the past few days, unable to stop himself from wondering if they would have liked Hermione. His situation was very different from theirs. Uncertainty overcame him as his thoughts raked over the idea of his parents' marriage - the beauty of their marriage based on love and not of consequence. It was hard for him to imagine such love blossoming from that, often contemplating whether Hermione, or even _he_ could ever grow to truly love one another. It was something that had been on his mind and weighed heavy on his heart.

 

Being a Death Eater, he never allowed himself the luxury of hoping a witch worthy of love could ever reciprocate it back to a man considered to be so cruel. He never allowed himself to hope, and he never opened his heart to anyone to find out. Antonin found difficulty in the idea of opening up his heart, to truly know once and for all what it was his parents had - love. He wasn't certain at this time in the arrangement if he could. Or if she would ever want to.

 

Walking around the solid cherry wood counter, he stepped to the door and turned the sign in the window, displaying to passersby the shop was open. Then he made his way up to the second level. After his dinner with Hermione, he had been inspired to finish the space as much as he could and fill the shelves with as many children's books as possible. Seeing her eyes sparkle with awe and her face glow with admiration as her delicate fingers examined his artwork, had left him feeling a surge of pride, thinking he had let this level sit untouched for too long. Perhaps it was to show her the complete vision he had intended for this area of his shop. Or maybe it was something in the way he was entranced with the expression on her face because of him. So, he had brought out the boxes from storage and decided to stock the shelves before she arrived. A small part of him was reluctant to admit that perhaps her particular approval and admiration made him feel all the more confident. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. It was far too early in their relationship, if that's what you could call it, to be feeling something like that. He sank down on his knees next to a stack of boxes and began to sort through the books, his thoughts drifting to the events of the previous night. The more he thought about Hermione Granger, the more he realized, he liked thinking about her.

 

The brunette witch had been constantly at the forefront of his thoughts since the moment he saw her name on that letter. He was, surprisingly, looking forward to spending more time with Hermione. It had even taken him a while to fall asleep after she left, due to his mind being occupied with thoughts of his _bride-to-be_. Despite attempting to control his mixed feelings, his lips curled up into a lopsided grin at the thought of her being his bride. There was no doubt her reservations, which he understood and wholeheartedly respected. There were still, to a small degree, some reservations on his part as well. He wouldn't rush things, but he wanted to show her that accepting this situation, accepting him, meant that he would protect her at all costs; the way he did for those he allowed close to him. He knew the depths of his story was yet to be revealed to her. If he were honest with himself, his reservations were mostly due to her potential reactions to the full knowledge of his past. It was an incredible act of faith on his part - to be willing to admit everything to her - allowing her to see his strengths  & weaknesses. Allowing himself to be vulnerable for the sake of _them_. He knew he would have to for the two of them to work.

 

What he hadn't told Hermione about himself was how he fell under the spell of the seductive life being a Death Eater had to offer. After the loss of his parents, he poured his whole heart into his work. He hadn't risen in the ranks of the Death Eaters by showing mercy, or being a kind romantic - that part of him was reserved for a very select few.

 

It was true, he had regretted almost everything. If he had to do it all over again, he wouldn't have been the one to have wielded the wand that killed as many as he did, but he loved inventing curses and spells. The feeling of a new magical essence forming and coursing through his veins, connecting him with his wand before an unknown, yet desired spark of magical current bursting through the wooden tip brought a feeling of power and authority, leaving his whole being satisfied. There was something about the remnants of a new spell emerging, permeating through the air. It brought him an odd sense of peace. Dark spells, more specifically the dark arts, were a passion of his even at a young age. He used that to his advantage as he climbed the ranks and became the feared, notoriously ruthless Death Eater for which he was known to be. He wondered how to explain his ambition for power to Hermione; his infatuation with wielding magic most saw only as formidable.

 

The charmed bell chimed, knocking his thoughts with every pleasant sound as it vibrated up from the door.

 

 

“Toni, you here?”

 

“Up here, AJ,” he called with his head angled towards the stairs.

 

Taking two steps at a time, Atticus made his way to the second level. “What brings you up here? You haven't touched this level since you completed the mural,” he said with a look of surprise as he reached the top of the staircase, handing Antonin a coffee, and looking about boredly at the open boxes scattered around them.

 

Antonin accepted the steaming cup from Atticus’s hand as a lopsided grin graced his face, “I guess you could say I was inspired.”

 

“So, I take it your date with the future _Mrs. Dolohov_ went well?” Atticus replied, smirking as he removed his wand and transfigured a worn wooden chair to a plush oversized armchair.

 

“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances. She seemed to be open to hearing my story. What I told her of it anyway.” His brows furrowed in contemplation.

 

“How far along did you get? We both have quite the sunny tale to tell any witch we marry.” Sitting down, he brought his right ankle up to rest on his left knee. Casually pulling the sleeve of his sweater up his muscled forearm, his eyes landed on the fading mark that would always be a constant reminder. “One I wish didn't include half of what it does.”

 

“Only the beginning really,” Antonin sighed and stood, grabbing a large stack of books. Walking over to a shelf next to Atticus, he began sorting the stack.

 

Atticus chuckled at his friend. “You could do this the easy way and just use magic, you know. For the most part, it's been unrestricted since you completed the program.”

 

“Vsegda umnaya zadnitsa,” Antonin chortled and walked back to take a sip of his coffee before gathering another stack of books into his hands. “I could, but the muggle way is a good way to pass the time. It's not as though my shop is filled to the brim with customers.”

 

Sighing, Atticus brought a hand up to scratch his five o’clock shadow, gracing his square jaw. “I hope that changes for you, Toni. Maybe marrying Hermione Granger won't be such a bad thing for you after all. You can use this whole arrangement to your advantage at least. Perhaps then people will start visiting more, once they realize who you're married to. The added publicity surely won't hurt,” he shrugged, sipping at his coffee.

 

Running a hand over his face, Antonin scratched his beard in contemplation before looking up at his friend. “Actually, AJ, I'm afraid with this law, it will be just the opposite. The public will know it’s forced, take pity on those they view as victims and take it out on us. I'm afraid our businesses and treatment from the public will suffer all the more because of it.”

 

Leaning forward, Atticus rested his elbows on his knees with a sigh. “I'm still not sure about what I plan on doing after the program. Also, I'm not too crazy about this law myself.” He ran a hand through his short dark hair. “What witch is going to want to marry a former Death Eater who is still trying to figure out what he wants to do and still part of a Rehab program? My magic is still partly restricted. Honestly, Toni, I wish I could just go back to America. I've missed my home for years.”

 

Before Antonin could respond, they were interrupted by someone walking in. He started down the creaking wooden steps to greet his patron when his eyes met the piercing blue eyes of their Rehabilitation Officer.

 

“Antonin Dolohov, my favorite bookshop owner,” boomed the loud voice of Sirius Black.

 

Rolling his eyes, Antonin leaned against the counter, “What are you doing here Black? I'm not supposed to meet with you until tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, come, come now Antonin, don't look so disappointed to see me.” Crossing his arms, Sirius leaned his shoulder against a nearby shelf, smiling brightly, “I'm not here on official business to see you, but I am here to see you. I also have an appointment today with AJ and assumed he would probably be here. So, as the saying goes, I'm killing two birds with one stone. So to speak”

 

“Come on up; I'm working on the children's level today.” Antonin gestured with his hand to the stairs as he led Sirius up.

 

“I thought I heard your annoying voice old man,” Atticus joked with Sirius as he downed the last of his coffee.

 

“Old man? _Me_? You're one to talk; I only graduated a year before you, Jugson.” Sirius laughed as he straddled a nearby wooden chair.

 

“You're still older, Black, and I'm still better looking.”

 

“You're taller, but we both know I'm the more attractive one. My name is even written in the stars.”

 

Laughing, Atticus conceded, his palms in the air. “You got me there. You won this round Black, but don't expect me to go so easy on you next time.”

 

Antonin kept his head down, focused on the box of books in front of him, but raised his eyes and breathed a laughed through his nose. The banter between AJ and Sirius had always been entertaining, even in school. “Well, if you two are done with your vanity contest, why are you here Sirius? You said you wanted to see me for a reason.”

 

“Always straight to the point,” Sirius noted, resting his arms on the back of the chair. He paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I was at the Weasley house the other night when Ron and Harry brought us the news. I was officially informed of the law today and that's something I need to discuss with you, AJ.” Sirius slapped the American man on the shoulder before drawing his eyes back to Antonin. “But Antonin, I'm here to warn you.”

 

Antonin stiffened at the words, but kept quiet and waited for Sirius to continue.

 

“I talked with Harry and Ron privately the other night. They deliberately didn't mention who Hermione was matched with. They both knew Molly wouldn't take too kindly to it. But what you may not know is, Molly and Hermione didn't quite see eye to eye when it came to the rehabilitation program. Hermione had a hand in creating it, while Molly was adamantly opposed to giving known murderers a second chance. ”

 

“So are you saying Hermione will be rejected by the Weasley family for being forced to marry me?”

 

“No, not the whole family. I happen to know that Harry, Hermione, and Ron will all be very supportive of one another. The twins have always held a brotherly affection for Hermione, and I'm quite sure Bill and Charlie will also support her in their own way. However, Molly will be another story.” Looking Antonin in the eye, Sirius continued. “Molly was utterly devastated by the loss of her brothers, and blames you for their death.”

 

“That's ridiculous! There were five of us there that night. Antonin and I were among them, but we didn't have a hand in killing them,” Atticus leaned forward, gesturing between himself and Antonin.

 

“So neither of you were responsible for their deaths?” Sirius asked in an unbelieving tone with a raised eyebrow. “Yet, you were there. So, what, you just stood around and watched it all happen?”

 

Rising to his feet, Antonin began pacing the floor. “Don't be absurd, ty durak. Of course, we had a part to play in their torture. We were sent on an assignment, and we had a job to do. We would have lost our lives had we failed - it was either them or us. But I did not kill them; nor were we there when they died.”

 

Looking from Antonin to Atticus, Sirius perked up at this new knowledge, crossing one arm over his chest while his other stroked one side of his mustache. “What do you mean you weren't there when they died?”

 

Antonin stopped pacing and peered up at him, “What people aren't aware of is, AJ and I were summoned back in the middle of... _things_ , to attend another matter. The twins were already overpowered, and we were no longer needed by that time. They were formidable opponents, and there was a good reason five of us were sent against them. But once they were,” he paused again as if reliving the memory. “...subdued, we left. I did not kill the Prewett Twins.”

 

“But that was the primary charge against you when you were originally sentenced to Azkaban.”

 

Leaning his arm against a shelf and leveling his gaze at Sirius, Antonin scoffed. “You remember how it was back then. Most of us didn't even get a trial or representation. Those that did get a trial, it was nothing but a farce for the viewing pleasure of the public.”

 

“So, what does this mean? Molly is going to create some kind of hell for Hermione because she's agreeing to go through with this arrangement?” Atticus inquired.

 

Sirius bobbed his head from side to side, taking in the words AJ asked of him. He let out a long sigh. "Molly won't make it easy on Hermione. Or anyone who supports her for that matter. The two of them don't exactly have a smooth past. Neither will come out of this situation unscathed."

 

Antonin’s jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at the mere thought of someone hurting Hermione because of him.

 

Noticing Antonin’s reaction, Sirius continued. “Listen, I'm not here to cause a conflict before it happens, but you need to prepare yourself. Molly is a good person, although misguided at times. She loves her family and has welcomed Hermione into that circle. However, even Harry and Ron felt it was a better idea to keep the knowledge of who Hermione was going to marry secret for as long as possible. Harry will be having this same conversation with Hermione sometime this morning.” Letting out a deep sigh he looked at Antonin square in the eyes.

 

“You need to prepare yourself. You need to control that legendary temper of yours and not let this get the better of you. You and Hermione will be under the constant scrutiny of the public. I've grown to know her very well over the years. She will put on a brave face and be strong for the cameras. She's a strong person, and whether she realizes this or not, she'll be relying on Harry, Ron and you, Antonin, to be her rock through it all. I've no doubt; she will stand by your side and smile through everything. But she will need you, need all of us. Kingsley is preparing himself for a fall out from the public over this insidious law. He's dreading it, and I don't envy his position in the least. But if anyone can get us through this, it's him.”

 

Atticus leaned forward and drummed his thumbs on his empty coffee cup. “Maybe the Ministry needs to see a revolt against the law. Maybe then they’d see it was a horrible idea to begin with.”

 

“No, those pompous prats knew exactly what they were doing.” Sirius spat with a snarl. “According to Kingsley, they also had ample amount of time to prepare their families for it as well. Every single person responsible for voting this law into place has made certain their family is exempt. The only stipulation made around this law was a preexisting betrothal contract. Not a single son or daughter of the Wizengamot members will be affected because they've arranged prior to the law taking place all eligible members to be either married or under such a contract. It's such hypocrisy it's disgusting! Oh, but they're prepared to punish anyone who goes against this law.” Taking a breath, Sirius turned his full attention to Atticus.

 

“Which leads me to another stipulation. All active members of the rehabilitation program are not eligible for marriage under the law.”

 

Atticus furrowed his brows, “So, what does that mean? That I won't be paired with anyone until after I make it completely through the program? Maybe I have time to find my own witch.”

 

Sirius sighed and looked Atticus in the eye. “No, mate, it means you're not eligible for marriage at all until after you're participation in the program is complete. So therefore when this law is announced, you won't be allowed to marry anyone until you're eligible for a Ministry match.”

 

Shooting out of his chair in an angry huff, Atticus paced the length of the second floor with long strides. “What?! That's a violation of personal rights! It's outrageous! They can't do this. What if I end up meeting someone?”

 

“I'm sorry, AJ, but if I were you, I wouldn't be going out of my way to find anyone. One day you'll have a Ministry appointed bride.” Sirius scowled. “I still don't know who I've been matched with. And quite frankly, I'm not looking forward to finding out.”

 

Antonin looked at his friend, knowing how truly upset he was over this news. “I'm sorry, AJ, you deserve better than this. I wish it weren’t happening to you.”

 

“How about we talk about it more when we start our meeting?” Sirius asked as he stood.

 

Looking at the clock, Antonin noticed the time for the first time that morning: it was already half past eleven. “Do you want to take this to my flat? You both can hold your appointment there if you’d like. But Hermione's going to be here in an hour, and I need to get myself cleaned up. I want today to smoother than it did last night.”

 

Sirius’ head spun around to face Antonin, his jaw tightening. “What happened last night? What did you do?”

 

“Calm down, Sirius, we just got into a bit of a heated discussion. But I apologized for everything - and we parted on good terms. She's coming today so we can discuss the wedding details and sort out our life together. Apparently, we only have until the end of January. So what takes most people years to sort out, we have mere weeks.”

 

Sirius furrowed his brows and nodded his head, taking in Antonin’s words. “I understand. But I have one more thing to say before AJ and I go.” Walking up to Antonin, he looked up a little to meet the taller man’s gaze. But the determined look in Sirius’ eyes said he was a force to be reckoned with. “Don't hurt her, Antonin. She's a powerful witch and an amazing woman. Treat her right.”

 

Smirking at Sirius, Antonin replied, “Do you have a crush on my fiancé, old man?”

 

“Again with the old man bit!” Sirius broke into a huge smile and laughed as he turned to Atticus. “Let's go, AJ, this bloke is a dusty mess and needs a shower while you and I have an official meeting.”

 

Atticus, who had been leaning against a shelf with furrowed brows, was still upset over the news, but pushed himself upright and made his way to the stairs. “Let's go get a coffee.”

 

Walking down the stairs, Sirius chortled. “Americans and your damn coffee. Haven't you been in Britain long enough to prefer tea?”

 

“Haven't you learned, old man? You can take the American out of America, but no matter where we are, we’ll always prefer coffee.”

 

Antonin laughed as their voices faded further with every step. Finally, the doorbell sang its tune, signaling their exit. Antonin took his wand and levitated the remaining few boxes into the corner, stacking them neatly against the wall before walking back down to close up the shop for an hour. He meant what he said before - he truly did hope today would go over more smoothly with Hermione. He had an idea of how to ease the tension between them, and he anxiously hoped it would work.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of my amazing readers for the follows, favorites and for those of you who take the time to leave a review. I am always appreciative and grateful. I really hope you all enjoy the update as I genuinely enjoyed writing this chapter. This story is my baby and I am thrilled you all are enjoying this as well. As always, I love hearing what you think :~)
> 
> A special thanks to my lovely and amazing Alpha / Beta team SandraSempra and AlexandraO. Love you both and as always thank you for your valued input and time.
> 
> Russians Translations for this chapter: 
> 
> Ya ozhidal etogo - I was expecting this
> 
> Sumasshedshiy izvrashcheniy sukin syn - crazy twisted son of a bitch

 

Walking the streets of muggle London was a sort of reprieve for Hermione - it was cold, and the sun was hiding behind the thick sheets of grey winter clouds -but it was better than being in Diagon Alley at the moment. After her conversation with Harry only an hour prior, she needed an escape.

 

Finding herself walking in circles, she passed by the same red booth for a fourth time. Resisting the urge to walk around the park  _ again _ , she stepped inside and dug out her muggle coins. She needed someone on her side, someone to understand she couldn't answer  _ every  _ question. But she  _ needed  _ someone fighting with her who wouldn't waver. She knew going up against Molly and anyone else she could rally on her side would be taxing - not to mention facing the scrutiny of the media. She would need  _ someone _ . 

 

Ron and Harry would be there for her, but Ron wouldn't always go against his mum, nor did she expect him to. As for Harry, the Weasleys were the family he never had. He wouldn't always go against them either. She knew they would still support her - they promised they would - but not always in the way she needed. There was, however, one person she  _ could  _ rely on. A person who would be there no matter what. She slid the coins into the machine and dialed the country code and phone number of her oldest and most trusted friend. The phone rang once, then twice, then a third time. Just before Hermione was about to give up and place the phone back in its cradle, a female voice answered. She thought she would break down right there. 

 

“Hello?” A half awake, groggy voice answered.

 

“Rosalie, how are you?” Hermione's voice cracked. She always forgot about the time difference between them. 

 

“Hermione! You sound upset, what's the matter? Is everything alright?” 

 

She couldn't contain herself any longer; she broke down. “I'm not alright, Rosalie. I mean, I'm alright  _ physically _ , but I really need someone right now. I don't quite know where to begin.” Hermione's tears dripped from her cheeks as she held the phone to her ear, her eyes burned from tears she finally allowed to fall.

 

“Do I need to get you out of Britain? You know you always have a place to stay with me.” 

 

Choking a laugh, her hair unstuck from her tear stained cheeks as she wiped mindlessly at her eyes, sniffing back another snob. “I love you more than words could ever say for that, Rosalie, but,” she took another deep breath. “But I  _ can't  _ leave. I'm not in danger; I'm just facing something I never imagined I'd have to. And I don't know if I can face this alone.” 

 

“You won't have to. I'm packing my things. I'll get a portkey from MACUSA, and I'll be there as soon as I can.  _ Today _ . I'll floo straight to your place from the Ministry, okay?”

 

“It'll be on for you. Thank you, Rosalie. You have no idea how much this means to me.” 

 

“You would do the same for me, Hermione, I have no doubt. I'll be there as soon as I can.” 

 

“See you tonight.” Hermione continued holding the phone to her ear as she heard the click indicating Rosalie had hung up.

 

She rested her head on the cradle of the phone, fluttering her lids closed and allowing more silent tears to escape her eyes before slowly hanging up. Hermione wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders. She had a lunch date to prepare for and it wouldn't due to have bloodshot, puffy eyes. Shaking off the lingering dread, she made her way back to her flat to prepare lunch and get herself ready. 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Hermione stood at the window of Anna’s Attic, watching Antonin work as he stood behind the cherry wood counter and rang a customer. Observing his movements, facial expressions and studying his body language, she watched the man she would one day soon call her  _ husband _ . Looking at him, his appearance was attractive. Hermione's eyes had lingered over Antonin's features far longer than she wanted to admit, her eyes drifting to the way his dark hair was brushed back and curled slightly at the ends. She couldn't deny the attractive way his almost messy hair appeared, hanging just below the tip of his ears. His well-trimmed beard covered just enough of his handsome face but added a rugged affect to his features, and his mahogany eyes were deep and enticing. 

 

Despite their past, Hermione wasn’t blind. She could appreciate a handsome wizard when she saw one and Antonin Dolohov was undoubtedly a  _ handsome  _ wizard. As she watched him now, interacting with the customer, her thoughts wandered. To say she wasn't nervous about today would be an understatement. She was meant to talk marriage plans with this man when they had only just had their first encounter since the war. Her thoughts wandered still, already feeling vulnerable about the fact she would come to call this handsome stranger her lawfully wedded husband, but to playing the qactive role as such. She wondered how they would fair under the open, judging eyes of the media - not to mention the scrutiny and ridicule of their friends. Even though Harry and Ron would be there for her, they weren't marrying  _ Death Eaters _ . It just wasn't quite the same. 

 

Hermione caught sight of Antonin's gaze through the vintage lead glass window and quickly averted her eyes to the door as the heat flooded her face over being caught. She quickly turned, making her way through the entrance as the customer exited. Greeting Antonin, she gave him a tight smile and small wave. 

 

“Hello.”

 

“I was wondering if you were going to come in or if you were thinking of running.” Antonin's eyes remained on the work in front of him; his busy hands working the register before he peered up to meet her gaze.

 

Placing the bag of lunch on the counter, she let out a slight chuckle. “Not running, just thinking.”

 

Crossing his arms over his chest and slightly leaning back, Antonin took in her features. “You do that often; I suppose I should get used to it.” He smiled at her, hoping it would help ease the tension. 

 

Self consciously tucking her curls behind her ears, Hermione smiled tightly.  “Yes, I suppose I do. Well, I hope you enjoy what I brought. I'm so sorry, I didn't think to ask what you liked last night. So I packed some bread, cheese, fruit and a good wine.” 

  
  


“This sounds perfect. Thank you for bringing lunch today.” Antonin spoke as he took the bag from the counter and lead her into the room they had spent the prior evening. It was warm and cozy, even during the day. The heat emanating from the crackling fire added to the ambiance. Her eyes gravitated in the direction of the table where a large package was placed in the center of its surface. Her eyes widened,  slight shock spread across her face, as Antonin set the bag of food on a chair. Hermione’s attention never left the space where the package laid. 

 

“Is this for me?” Hermione asked, pointing to the package with curiosity. 

 

Bringing his bottom lip between his teeth and nodding his head to affirm, “I got you a little something. I know we're forced into this marriage, but my father taught me that a lady deserves to be enchanted.” Raising his wand, he uttered something in a language Hermione didn't understand, but her focus was on the table. As he spoke, a glittering cloud of dazzling color, that seemed to change when seen from different angles, encompassed the entire package. The magic swirled and danced beautifully then slowly faded away, leaving a breathtaking bouquet of black tulips, soft yellow daisies, and lilacs. 

 

Hermione couldn't help the bright smile that spread across her lips “Antonin, that was  _ beautiful  _ magic,” Hermione gushed, stepping up to admire the unique arrangement. “I've never seen black tulips before! These are gorgeous,” she was captivated by the unique and fragrant bouquet on display before her. 

 

“Ah, but the spell is not finished. There's still one remaining step, and all it takes is a specific wave of  _ your _ wand.” Slowly stepping around the table, he hesitantly approached her. “The spell won't work for anyone else but you. Would you allow me to show you the wand movements?” Antonin gave a half bow, his hand extended as if waiting for Hermione's permission.

 

“ _ Yes _ , I'm very curious,” she told him, leveling her eyes to focus on his wand hand.

 

Raising his hand, Hermione watched as he gracefully moved his wand in an intricate and detailed pattern, listening to him as he recited the spell. She was mesmerized by his fluid motions, and for a second time that evening, she didn't recognize the language he used. Crossing her arms and slightly tilting her head, curiosity got the better of her. “What language is that? I don't recognize it.” 

 

Looking down at his wand hand, Antonin’s lips curled, gracing her with a lopsided grin. “I don't suspect you would. It's old Russian. Most Russians don't even practice it any longer. It's held sacred in the magical community though. Those of us who create and invent spells will always try to use the old language for the incantations. Are you ready to try it?”

 

Hermione nodded, raising her wand to attempt imitating his smooth, fluid movements. Apparently, she failed at getting the swirling motions right because nothing happened for her. So, Antonin showed her again. When she still didn't get it quite right, Antonin stepped closer, “Do you mind?” He stood directly behind her and reluctantly gestured at her wand hand.

 

Hesitantly she nodded, making a mental note to research old Russian for her own knowledge. She was anxious to learn a new spell in a language she didn't know about, even if the close proximity made her a little uneasy. 

 

Stepping closer to her from behind, she could feel his breath on the shell of her ear. A shiver ran down her spine as his masculine hand gently cupped her wand hand, demonstrating the proper way to swirl her wand and again reciting the proper pronunciation. 

 

“You see? Easy. It's all in the wrist.” Smiling, he turned his head slightly to meet her gaze over her shoulder, not realizing how close they actually were as their faces were mere centimeters apart. 

 

His eyes roamed her face as her breath hitched slightly - her stomach swirled with...what? Butterflies?  _ No _ , surely not. The proximity and physical touch simply made her  _ uneasy _ . Blinking and straightening her shoulders, she softly pulled away from his hand resting on hers.

 

“Thank you. I believe I'll get it this time.” 

 

Quickly dropping his hand and stepping back, he gave her space and watched. His lips were twitching slightly, attempting to suppress a smile at the unwavering look in her countenance. 

 

Hermione squared her jaw, determined to get it right. She recited the incantation, careful to pronounce it  _ just  _ as he had taught her, and waved her wand in the same graceful motions. As she did, a soft glittering hue of iridescent, lavender and yellow swirled around the bouquet. Hermione bent closer, watching in awe as the flowers began to glow with an incandescent illumination, slowly transforming into something she couldn't quite make out danced with wonder as she slowly inched her way closer to the transforming bouquet, entranced by the whimsical glow of the magic. The incandescent light shone off her feminine features, almost sparkling off her curly brunette hair falling softly around her face. It was in that moment he was struck with the realization of her true beauty. She was breathtaking, and she was to be  _ his _ . 

 

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful magic before her. What probably only took a minute or two seemed much longer as the magical glistening cloud faded away, leaving behind a stack of vintage books. Her eyes shone bright with curiosity as she picked up the small pile of books and met Antonine’s gaze once more before reading the titles out loud. 

 

“ _ Black Tulips _ by Alexander Dumas,  _ Daisy Miller _ by Henry James,” Hermione observed. As she moved to the next title, she paused, smiling brightly as tears rimmed her warm hazel eyes. “ _ Under the Lilacs _ by Louisa May Alcott. My mum used to read this to me when I was a little girl. It's one of my favorite stories. Louisa May Alcott is one of my favorite authors.” Looking up at him she met his gaze and smiled as she moved to the final title. “ _ Petals and Dreamscapes, _ ” Hermione said, furrowing her brows. She read the title in contemplation. “Andreevna Gorenko? I've never heard of this book  _ or  _ this author.” Looking up again she met Antonin’s smiling face once more.

 

Antonin couldn't hide the excitement on his countenance at the prospect of gifting her such a rare magical novel she had never read. “I suspect you wouldn't have. Andreevna Gorenko was a squib born to a Russian pureblood family. She eventually left the magical world, but not before she published her very first novel. She became a prominent poet and author in the muggle world. But her only magical piece is hard to find as it was only printed in Russia under her pureblood name. It's also quite different from the work she is known for in the muggle world where she wrote underneath the name Anna Akhmatova.”

 

Hermione couldn't suppress her curiosity as she opened the leather book cover to the first page. “What’s the story about?” Her eyes bored into his inquisitively.

 

“In this book, the protagonist uses rose petals along with rose thrones in her amortentia potion. The effects of which cause her to not only smell her true love, but also  _ see  _ him in her dreams.”

 

“I think I'm going to enjoy this story very much. How did you find such a rare book?”  

 

“It was part of my family’s library. Now it's yours. I translated it into English for you.”

 

Genuinely touched by the sentiment, Hermione traced her hand over the leather cover and raised her gaze to meet Antonin’s once more. 

 

“Thank you, Antonin. Truly, this was all so elaborate and thoughtful. The Magic alone was captivating and beautiful.” Looking down at the book in her hand her smile faded as her thoughts drifted to the one question that had been at the forefront of her thoughts since the previous night. 

 

Noticing her change in demeanor, Antonin crossed his arms. “Do you like the gift?” 

 

“I need an answer to something, and only you can give it.”

 

“Anything, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, what do you want to know?” 

 

“You mentioned that you invented that enchanting spell I just witnessed. The Magic was so beautiful. Do you invent a lot of your own spells?” 

 

“I do. Inventing spells has always been a passion of mine. Even as a young boy,” he replied hesitantly as he crossed his arms anticipating her real question. 

 

“Did you invent the curse you struck me with?” 

 

His gaze lost its light as he paused before answering her question. He wasn't going to lie to her. “I did.”

 

Closing her eyes to gather her thoughts before going further, she wanted to be rational but she needed to prepare herself for the worst. She opened her eyes and met his before continuing. “I need to know, what was I fighting? What was it created to do?” 

 

Taking a deep breath and running his hand over his beard he eyed her. “Perhaps we should sit,” he suggested, gesturing to the table. Hermione sighed, gathering her new books and set them down to the side before taking their seats across from one another.

 

Lacing his fingers and tapping his thumbs together, Antonin looked at Hermione and mumbled to himself “Ya znal, chto ozhidayu etogo.” Meeting her warm gaze, he continued. “I'll answer your question, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, because you deserve that. The curse was designed to slow blood flow to the heart, essentially causing lack of oxygen to the brain and cardiac arrest.” He paused to allow the information to sink in, his right leg bounced nervously under the table. He knew she could potentially walk out. He wouldn't stop her this time, but he didn't want her to go. 

 

Hermione tightened her jaw and crossed her arms over her stomach as she focused her attention on the table and allowed the memories to replay like a movie in her head. She remembered looking into the eyes of a man she would fear for a  _ long  _ time. Then Hermione slowly slid her gaze to meet the same deep eyes sitting across from her. She didn't know what she expected, but perhaps not a curse truly meant to  _ kill  _ her. She sat and contemplated that for a moment before she spoke. 

 

“You wanted me dead.” She spoke with a hint of disbelief in her voice. “I was only a child, and you wanted to kill me.” 

 

Sitting back and hanging his head in a defeated manner he sighed and ran his hands down his face. Resting both hands on his lap, he met her stone cold gaze, clenching his jaw, he wouldn't allow her to put him on the defensive again. “Hermione, I already apologized to you last night for this. I will not continually go through this. I am sincerely sorry but you asked, and I will never attempt to hide the truth from you. I will always be honest. I was given direct orders, and I obeyed them. If I hadn't, it would have meant my life.” He rested his back on the chair, trying to shift his focus -  _ and hers  _ \- to the true reason for their meeting today. “Now, we only have a few short days before the public knows about this law and  _ us _ . We need to move past this if we're ever going to be a believable couple to the Wizengamot, the press  _ and  _ the public. It’s no easy feat, but that decision will ultimately be up to you.” 

 

Crossing his arms, he looked her square in the eyes and met her fiery gaze with equal fierceness. He would not allow her to continue punishing him for their past. He served his time, he went through the entire rehabilitation process,  _ and _ he sincerely apologized to her. There was nothing more he could do. If she chose to walk away, it would be on her.

 

Hermione's gaze was locked on his without blinking. She was logical enough to know what he said was true. She would have enough to deal with when Molly was informed - let alone the public - but it was unfair of anyone to expect it of her. She moved her gaze to the stack of books on the table and her anger softened. The magic he had created for her was magnificent. He  _ had _ apologized, and the gifts were the most ingenious and thoughtful gifts she could've ever imagined. He was right, as the muggles would say, this is a ‘ _ fork in the road _ ’ moment and the decision was entirely hers. Taking a deep breath, she looked up to search his face again. His jaw was still clenched, she could hear his leg shifting uneasily, but his eyes had lost all fire and now held an anxious anticipation. 

 

“You're right, Antonin. I wanted to know, and I appreciate your honesty. We do need to move past this. I don't see where holding grudges or malice between us is going to be productive in our circumstances. I don't see a need to discuss the topic of our past interactions any further.” 

 

Antonin couldn't believe his ears. He anticipated she would storm out, to stubbornly refuse his explanation outright, but she remained - the strong woman she was. He let out the breath he had been holding as he nodded his head. “I'm glad we both can agree.” Then leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, he gave her a lopsided grin. “You never answered my question.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes in confusion before she inquired “What question?” 

 

Releasing a breathy laugh at her expression, he asked once more. “Do you like your gift?”

 

Realization hit her, and despite their previous topics regarding murderous spells, she laughed. “Yes, Antonin, it was very thoughtful, not to mention clever. I love books more than anything and I know I'm going to enjoy them all. Thank you.”

 

Antonin couldn't help a swelling sense of pride at how his magic and his gifts had brought her such pleasure, and possibly a small step closer to mending the bridge between them. Taking a deep breath and rubbing his palms together, he reached for the bag of food. “I know we have a lot to discuss today; perhaps we should start lunch.” Pulling out the bottle of wine and summoning two glasses, he poured each of them a glass of wine. 

 

Hermione watched silently as Antonin set out the food, displaying it on the table for them to eat. Her mind still had questions regarding her future husband, and she was determined to know more about the man sitting before her. “I must admit, I was impressed by that beautiful display of magic. When did you first start becoming interested in inventing your own spells?”

 

At her question, Antonin's eyes danced with excitement, “I had access to my family library at a very young age. With my mother's influence and always encouraging me to read, I would spend hours upon hours in our library as a boy. As you know my father is pureblood and his family can be traced back to five original Magical families of ancient Russia. Each magical culture is rich in its own history. My families library would rival that of the Blacks, Lestranges or Malfoys. I found that I enjoyed reading works written by Mages as they journaled the process of creating and perfecting a spell. That's how I became interested in inventing new ones. But the ancient Russian content is somewhat different than that of ancient Europe.”

 

Hermione listened as she studied his features, the light in his eyes displayed how genuinely passionate he was about this topic. “Different? How so?” 

 

Taking a bite of bread Antonin contemplated on how to continue. He hoped she would understand. “Ancient Russian magical culture is steeped in the dark arts. So that was a majority of my family library.” 

 

“The dark arts? You studied the dark arts as a child?” Hermione’s brows shot up, surprise evident on her face. 

 

“You need to understand, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, that dark magic is ingrained in ancient magical Russian culture. A majority of the spells invented and created by these magical theorists were not all meant to be used in the ways of evil. It's true, some have been known to be, but not all. Many were brilliant wizards and witches who wanted to use the magic they grew up knowing to  _ help  _ people. When  _ I  _ was growing up, we didn't know the difference between light and dark magic like it is known here in Europe. We just knew  _ intent _ . If a wizard or witch had any ill intent, they would use their magic for darker purposes. The same magic can be tapped into and used for good.”

 

Sitting back and nibbling on her lower lip, she tilted her head, contemplating his logic and rolling the new information in her head before responding. “While I can see your point, I don't know if I agree with it completely.” 

 

“What part of it don't you agree with?” Antonin quirked a brow, genuinely curious to hear her own thoughts on the matter.

 

“Are you aware of exactly what it took; what we  _ had  _ to do to defeat Voldemort?” 

 

Cringing slightly at the name, Antonin had to admit he had never taken the time to genuinely think of it. “No, I can't say I ever really took it into consideration.” 

 

“He made seven horcruxes. We had to hunt and destroy each and every one before we could attempt to kill him once and for all. The dark magic surrounding them were so vile, they had an effect on anyone who was even  _ near  _ them. Harry and I had to take turns wearing one for months before we found a way to destroy it. That was evil magic at its very root. No possible good intent can be argued for a horcrux.”

 

Antonin's eyes went wide, shock stretching across his face. “ _ Seven _ horcruxes?” Breathing out a breath of disbelief, he slouched in his chair. “Sumasshedshiy izvrashcheniy sukin syn.” He mumbled as he rubbed his palm across the back of his neck. He peered over at Hermione with raised eyebrows, “That actually explains quite a lot.” 

 

“You don't even want to know the heinous magic he used to bring himself back. So while I understand your argument, from experience, I don't quite know if I can agree with it.”

 

“Remember, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa; I did acknowledge that some spells and curses were invented with evil ambition, but that goes back to the creator themselves and how they choose to use there magic. All dark magic created goes back to the creating witches or wizards original  _ intent _ . If another's objective is the same, they will seek out and use those darker curses.” 

 

Smirking, Hermione took a sip of her wine before setting the cup back on the table, slowly nodding her head as she took in his complete argument. “Alright, I'll concede. I  _ can  _ agree with that logic.”

 

Feeling victorious Antonin smiled brightly, and straightened his back with an inclined chin. Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little at his expression. 

 

They were interrupted by a patronus in the form of a stag. “Hermione, Molly knows, and she's on her way to Antonin's shop now. As expected, she is not happy. Ron and I are right behind her.” 

 

Hermione and Antonin both sat shocked as their gazes met. There was a twisting knot that developed in the pit of Hermione's stomach as Antonin stood at the sound of the entrance door jingling. Expecting she would need a moment to gather herself, he squeezed her shoulder as he walked to the front of the store. 

 

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with?” Antonin asked politely, attempting to stall the inevitable. 

 

“Where is she? I suspect she's here? Hermione don't you dare hide from me!” The familiar female voice yelled. 

 

Hide? The nerve of this woman. Hermione Jean Granger does not cower or hide from  _ anyone _ . Her nostrils flared, and she rose to her feet. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slowly walked to the front of the shop.

 

“You know me better than to suspect I would ever hide, Molly,” Hermione said, crossing her arms as she stood beside Antonin behind the counter. 

 

Breathing in short heavy breaths, Molly's hair was almost electric with magic as her eyes shifted from Antonin to Hermione, eyeing the two before her who stood side by side with similar stances and blank expressions.

 

“So it's true? I had to find out through somebody  _ else _ ? You didn't even have the decency to tell me yourself?” Molly’s tone spat with disgust. 

 

“Don't be ridiculous, Molly, I was planning on visiting with you tomorrow morning to let you know. That's why Harry and I requested morning tea with you. I don't know how you found out because only a handful of people know, but as you should be aware, we only  _ just  _ found out ourselves two short days ago. It's not as though I've been keeping a secret from you for months, sneaking behind your back. So don't you dare throw that accusation at me.”

 

“How could you? I took you in as my own daughter. Especially after the loss of your family, I took pity on you and welcomed you into my  _ home _ . Even through our  _ disagreement  _ over the implementation of the rehabilitation program. I still never turned you away. But this?” She gestured angrily between Antonin and Hermione. “ _ This _ , I can not look past.” 

 

Looking to Antonin, her gaze filled with malice and her eyes with tears as she pointed her finger at him. “And  _ you _ . You should still be rotting in Azkaban for what you did. You took away the  _ only _ family I had left. Other than my husband and children, my brothers were all I had.” Her voice cracked with evident pain. “But what do you care? You're nothing but a cold, heartless, ruthless son of a  _ bitch _ .  _ You _ should be dead instead of them.” Tears of anger, pain and grief trickled down her cheeks, her breath sporadic as her chest rose and fell. 

 

Hermione was frozen where she stood, emotions battling for dominance inside her chest, causing her heart to race and her blood to boil. She knew Molly was in pain, knew the elder witch ached for the revenge of her brother's murders, but to throw the loss of Hermione's own parents in her face had her balling her hands into fists at her sides. To think her kindness was not out of an act of love, but for pity of all things had her questioning the Weasley Monarch's true character. She could excuse a reaction triggered by loss, she'd done so herself, but she never suspected Molly to stoop so low. Apparently nothing was off limits when Molly was out for blood.

 

Before she could respond, the door burst open and Harry and Ron rushed in. Feeling the tension thick as a London fog, they immediately stopped in their tracks to take in the scene before them. They were relieved to see no one had pulled their wands, but Ron went right to his mother when he saw her tears. Harry walked to the other side of the counter to stand next to Hermione. 

 

That's when Hermione spoke again, “Molly, you know as well as I do that none of us have a choice in the matter.”

 

“Bollocks! If I were you I'd gladly take Azkaban.” 

 

“Molly,you know you don't mean that. Hermione doesn't deserve to go to Azkaban over this. And deep down I know you wouldn't want her to,” Harry said, attempting to ease the tension. 

 

Looking at Harry, hurt crossing her face, she said, “So that's how it's going to be? You're choosing Hermione over me?”

 

Opening his hands, Harry gave a gesture of surrender, “Molly, there are no sides. We are all in this together. We are all subject to this law. We have to stick together to get through it. There aren't any  _ sides _ to take. You know I love you, Molly, you're like a mum to Hermione and me. Please don't let this law ruin what we all have together.” Harry pleaded. 

 

“I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't look past this.” Turning to Hermione, Molly’s stone cold glare bore right into her soul. “As long as you decide to go through with this and become the wife of the man responsible for the  _ torture _ and  _ murder _ of my brothers, I'm sorry, but I can no longer welcome you into my home.” Turning to Harry, her gaze softened slightly. “Harry, you're still welcome of course, unless you choose to take Hermione's side and support her in this.” 

 

“Mum, you don't mean that,” Ron interjected in disbelief. “We all agreed to support one another, myself included. We all promised Kingsley. You can  _ not  _ make this about sides. This is us against the Wizengamot, not us against each other.” 

 

“I've said all I came to say. I'll expect you for dinner, Ronald.” With that, she turned and stormed out of the shop.

 

After a moment to process the events of the last five minutes, Hermione slowly turned to Harry and Ron. “What the bloody hell happened? How did she find out? Harry, we were supposed to tell her calmly over tea tomorrow morning. How did this…?” She trailed off shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

 

“I'm sorry, ‘Mione. It was my fault,” Ron said in a defeated tone, running a hand over his face, “I was talking to Ginny in the sitting room and I thought mum was still out. Ginny asked me who it was you were matched with and I told her. Had I known she was even in the house, I wouldn't have risked saying anything at all. I'm so sorry.” 

 

As frustrated as she was with Ron, she couldn't blame him for this. She should have known Ginny would want to know. She had been so consumed with everything she didn't think to speak to the witch herself. “It's ok, Ron; this was bound to happen. Regardless of how she found out, this would have been her reaction. We all knew it was coming.” 

 

Turning to Antonin, who still had his arms crossed, Hermione saw his hands were balled into tight fists and fire danced in his darkened eyes. He hadn't spoken a word to Molly through her rant, and now Hermione could tell it was because he knew he was too angry to say anything at all. Resting a gentle hand on his arm, Hermione turned back to Harry and Ron. 

 

“Thanks for the warning, Harry, but you two should go and maybe try to talk some sense into Molly. Perhaps get Kingsley to help.  She seems to listen to him.” 

 

Nodding in agreement, they both turned to go. At the door Ron turned to address Hermione one last time, “I don't agree with her, Hermione, I want you to know that. But she's my mum. In public, for the cameras and as friends, I'm still keeping my promise to support you and Harry both. We have to remain a united front for each other and Kingsley.” 

 

“I know, Ron, I understand. She's coming from a place of pain. She's angry and doesn't mean what she says,” Hermione told him, even though Hermione knew Molly had meant every word. 

 

With that, they walked out leaving the two alone once more. Hermione slowly turned to Antonin who's gaze fell on her. Taking his hands in hers, forcing him to uncross his arms and unclench his fists. She opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.

 

“ _ No one  _ talks to you that way, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa.” 

 

Hermione was sure her jaw dropped before she quickly regained her composure. She was sure his anger was due to the way Molly spoke to  _ him  _ and what she accused him of. She would never have suspected his anger was in defense of  _ her _ . Then that feeling she had earlier came flooding back - surely it wasn't butterflies. Pushing it aside she let go of his hands and took a deep breath. 

 

“I'm so sorry she said those awful things, Antonin. I'm sorry this had to happen in front of you. I've been expecting it, especially since my conversation with Harry this morning.” Dropping her face in her hands, she grunted in frustration before regaining her composure. 

 

“Would you mind terribly if we called it early and met again tomorrow? I think I need to go home and just clear my head after all that.” Hermione wasn't ready for him to see how Molly’s words about her parents had affected her. She wasn't ready to tell him that story yet. 

 

Furrowing his brows in concern, he nodded his head. “Of course, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, tomorrow is fine. Where would you like to meet? Here again?” 

 

“Actually, how about we meet at my place for dinner? My friend Rosalie will be staying with me for awhile, but she won't be a bother. You won't even know she's there. Would you mind?”

 

“Of course, just let me know the address and time, I'll be there. But before you go, don't forget your books.” 

 

A small smile graced Hermione's face at the mention of her gift. Following him back to the table she gathered her things then walked back to the front of the shop to retrieve her coat. “Sorry again about all that. But I suppose now we know what we will be facing when all the news breaks.” 

 

Gently taking her hand and meeting her gaze, Antonin spoke softly. “Listen, Hermione, we both agreed to go through this together and attempt to make this work between us as much as we can hope. I'll see it through with you every step of the way.” 

 

Shocked by his words, she nodded her head. “Thank you, Antonin.” With that, she turned and stepped towards the door. All she wanted to do was get home and wait for Rosalie. 

 

The walk back was quick; she didn't want to linger away from home any longer than necessary. She walked in the door of her flat and heard rustling in the spare room - then a voice. 

 

“Hermione, are you home already?” Rosalie stepped out of the room, her long dark hair was wet, and she was wearing navy and cranberry flannel pajama bottoms with a navy camisole. Waving her wand over her head, Rosalie dried her hair quickly and rushed to greet her friend. 

 

“Rosalie! I couldn't be happier to see anyone else in the world right now. How did you get here so quickly?” Hermione dropped her bag, and both friends embraced. 

 

“I called in a few favors at MACUSA to speed up the portkey process. I'm here for as long as you need me. There's no return date set.” Stepping back from the embrace, both girls smiled and hugged again before making their way to the sitting room. 

 

“I took the liberty of picking up dinner. Hope you don't mind no-maj pizza. I picked it up on my way out of the country. I put a stasis on it and packed it in my bags, but it's my favorite pizza place. You sounded like you needed some good comfort food and some  _ equally  _ amazing alcohol this morning when you called. So I brought both.” She smiled as she pulled out a bottle of her signature beverage, Witches Delight. 

 

Hermione couldn't help but smile. “Oh, Rosalie, that sounds perfect! I think we're going to need this. We have  _ quite  _ a lot to catch up on.” Hermione made her way to the bedroom to retrieve her letter from the Ministry as Rosalie set out the pizza and poured two glasses of Witches Delight for them both. 

 

“I'm going to change, and I'll be right back. But for starters, you should read this.” Handing Rosalie the letter, she walked back into her room. She waited for her friend’s reaction as she slipped into her own pajamas. From the front of her flat, she finally heard it. 

 

“What the HELL!” Rosalie roared. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a long, unintentional hiatus, here’s the updated I’ve been working on for months. I apologize for my absence but please know I have been working on this the whole time. Life has taken a crazy turn but rest assured I will NEVER abandon this story. I will complete this because I LOVE this ship far too much to see it unfinished. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy it. As always, I love hearing from you :~)
> 
> Alpha/Beta love to the always lovely Violet Behaviour & AlexandraO. 
> 
> I also say a huge thank you to the lovely Sumersault16 and Frumpologist for creating some AMAZING cover art for this story. I am so grateful to you both! Be sure to check those out on my Tumblr where I can be found under the name Vino-Amore. 
> 
> **All Russian translations can be found at the end of the chapter.**

 

_Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock._

 

He was going to smash that infuriating clock. The unremitting noise was constant, like the talon’s of an untamed screeching owl scraping down a worn old chalkboard, relentless to stop.

 

Antonin had been waiting nearly seven full hours for the occupants of the little cottage in the woods to make their reappearance, and the insufferable repetition of _ticking_ was causing his eye to twitch.

 

He regretted not taking more time on the surrounding wards and wished he could dismantle that blasted timepiece as easily if only to spare him the bothersome swing of the pendulum.

 

Hovering in the shadows of the small one-room cabin, he watched in silence, well, _almost_ silence, as the last shimmering rays of sunlight diminished through the many windows - twelve in all - dancing shadows along the opposing wall.

 

After so many hours of standing about, the counting of windows was a welcomed distraction, if only for a fleeting moment. Breaching an Order safe-house was a bit more nerve-wracking than expected. The mundane task helped to ease his nerves, but knowing the rest of his group was surrounding the outside perimeter was a small comfort. Loud cracks of apparition tore him from his thoughts.

 

Wand in hand ready to attack, having no time to think before the whole cabin illuminated under flashes of spells going off outside, lighting up the surrounding forest like the northern lights across a midnight sky.

 

Attempting to move, Antonin found himself stuck in the shadows of a safe house that was no longer safe. He barely had time to register the spells outside had muffled and slowed, much like the ticking of the clock as time seemed to screech to a damning stop.

 

Horror filled his widened eyes as he watched the windows explode and shatter in slow motion around him. It was then when Antonin began to panic. Sharp shards of glass flew at him at unrelenting speeds, stabbing his body from head to toe. He attempted to use his arms and billowed robes to shield his face and body, wondering where his wand had disappeared to when he just had it firmly in his grasp. Searching for it amongst the flying glass, he heard a child screaming in the distance.

 

_Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock._

 

 _Still Ticking? How is that obnoxious clock still ticking?_ The pain pulled his mind from the clock, quickly remembering he needed to get to the child. He shakily removed his arms from his face, looking down to see himself standing knee deep in a pool of thick, sticky  crimson. His cuts had bled so quickly that the cabin floor had filled with his blood. He found his wand floating atop the deep red liquid, scooping it up in an attempt to vanish the blood surrounding him to no avail. He tried another spell to thin the blood around him, desperate to trudge through it quicker, but still, nothing happened.

 

Frustrated with his magic failing him, he clenched his teeth as he fought through the pain and the pool of thick liquid to make his way out. Another round of the child's screams reverberated off the remaining walls of the cabin, making him move faster in his steps. He had to find the child, had to find AJ.

 

Something had gone terribly wrong, and Antonin knew he would pay dearly for a botched mission. Slowly making his way out the door, the shards of glass clung to his wounds, stabbing beneath his flesh into his muscles and were more painful with every movement. Still, he pushed past the pain. He had to _run_. The wind blew in a frantic whirlwind around him, causing him to lose his balance and stumble to the ground. Rain and hail beat down on him as more blood leaked from his wounds, the impact hitting the shards of glass still attached to his body. He had to get out of the storm, out of whatever hell this was he found himself in.

 

 _Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock_.

 

He could hear the clock through the raging winds and hail. Antonin could feel the reverberation of his feet through his whole body as they hammered into the wet earth beneath him. His heart rate was quickly increasing the faster he ran, branches from the bushes and trees beating relentlessly against him, making their anger at the disturbance known on his already bloody and battered flesh. All the while, the incessant clock never stopped, cruel in its reminder of how little time he had left.

 

A shout from AJ to _take cover_ made him turn his head just before an explosion threw his body against a tree like he was nothing more than a rag doll. The pain shot through his entire being, an unrelenting bolt of electricity that was slowly becoming more than he could bear.

 

The screams.

 

The child was still screaming. Placing his bloody palm on the trunk of the tree he forced himself up. Antonin opened his eyes to see the child lying on the ground at his feet, staring at him through soulless, empty eyes, blood trickled from his mouth and open wounds. _No._ Shaking his head in disbelief and frustration, he failed more than the mission itself, he had failed the _child_.

 

A shot of excruciating, searing pain caused him to fall to his knees again balling his fits, his bones ached, and muscles screamed in unimaginable torment. Shards of glass still protruding from his wounds, the clock only grew more loudly with every passing moment, adding to the agony.

 

He lay on the forest floor as a wave of unconsciousness threatened to take over.  The darkness crept around his vision, slowly pulling him into a state of painless tranquility when a scream in the distance brought him back to his surroundings.

The screams were of a woman this time, and he forced himself to open his eyes, once again fighting through the pain.

 

When he was finally able to focus, the forest was gone, replaced by his childhood home but decorated like Malfoy Manor — that God forsaken hell. Would he never be free of it?

 

Screaming. Sobbing. _Pleading_.

 

He recognized the voice. Once again fighting through the scorching pain, he stood and attempted to balance himself. Using the wall for support, barely making his way to his mother's room. Seeing the sage green walls covered in blood, he stopped dead in his tracks and allowed his frame to rely on the wall for support.

 

Antonin could feel his mouth open as he shouted for his mother to be alive but no sound left from his lips. The only sound heard was the foreboding ticking of the clock. His heart sank as his eyes slowly moved up from her feet. Her delicate lace dress unrecognizable, so torn and tattered from the brutality of her attack. His eyes rested on her head, turned away from him. Her dark hair splayed every which way, matted in crimson. Making his way to her, begging her to be alive, to fight through the pain. He finally reached her still form, falling to his knees and turning her head to face him.

 

His eyes went wide with horror when he saw the features. The lifeless expression not that of his mother, but Hermione, staring back at him with the same vacant, glassed overbearing he had seen on the child.

 

His own screams of horror seemed to come from the depths of his soul as he squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody hands running through his hair as he then ducked his head into his arms. The torment was no longer just physical, but inside his gut wrenched at the horrific sight and his beating heart felt as though it was being ripped from his chest.

 

No! No!

 

Shaking his head vigorously, he wouldn't accept it. He couldn't be responsible for her death, not her too. Another surge of bone breaking pain shot through him, causing him to fall on his back, his eyes now level with Hermione. Taking her bloody, broken hand into his, he fought through yet another wave of agony. He closed his eyes once more, and Antonin succumbed to the darkness.

 

_Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock._

 

Antonin bolted upright in his bed, trying to catch his breath as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and neck. Taking in his surroundings and assessing his body for any wounds, he fell back onto his pillow, realizing it was just another night terror.

 

“Pizdec tvoyu mat! Blyaha muha!”

 

He cursed out as he brought both palms up to his face, taking a few deep breaths to help level out his heart rate. He rubbed his face before opening his eyes once more to check the time.

 

“Chyort! Uzhasnyy koshmar!”

 

Antonin peered at the clock, remembering his appointment with Sirius at the Ministry. Forcing himself out of bed, he moved with a jolt to the bathroom, turned on the sink and leaned on his palms, hovering over the running hot water. He closed his eyes and shook his head in a futile effort to free his mind of the images in his dream. Bending down to splash water on his face and neck, Antonin lifted his head to study his reflection. He couldn’t ignore the darkness that encircled his eyes, an almost mocking reminder he would never be rid of the darkness no matter how hard he tried. Divesting himself of his pants, he stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

 

The relentless memories and tormenting dreams bombarded his mind, clogging his thoughts completely since before he started his day. The image of Hermione’s tortured, lifeless form replayed over and over. Feeling as though his past would forever be his shackled shame, he leaned his head back and allowed the hot water to beat down on his neck and chest, the heat relaxing his muscles. The steam rose and seeped into the rest of the room, allowing himself to calm under its influence. He wondered if the dreams - the _torment_ \- would ever stop.

 

Antonin couldn't help but dwell on how much this dream had affected him. It was the first time anyone besides his father and mother appeared in his night terrors, and he never expected to see Hermione's face. He was shocked by his reaction to it in the nightmare, the undeniably real agony it had on his emotions. He had always been a private person, preferring to keep people at arm's length, even in school. It took him a while to warm up to AJ.

 

As for witches, there was never a shortage of choices if he desired to indulge. Not that there hadn't been dalliances, he simply always assumed he would end up back in Russia when he was ready to settle down. The wizards in his family, dating back generations, had all married Russian witches. He may not have been pureblood, but he was certainly one hundred percent Russian. Although his father had never said as much, it was somewhat of an unspoken assumption based on his family history.  

 

Stepping out of the shower, he accio’d his wand and dried himself when realization struck him. He would be the first in his family to marry a witch who was unfamiliar with the old Russian Wizarding customs. As far back as their family could be traced, every couple had been married and bonded under the magic of the old world ceremonies. It was something he always just assumed would be part of his future - to keep his family tradition going.

 

Now faced with the situation he found himself in, he wondered if Hermione would even be willing to consider it. He wasn’t certain she would, considering what the bond would mean. It would be something he would have to discuss with her. The thought hadn’t occurred to him until that very moment, and now fear washed over him. His family name didn’t have much, despite his efforts, and now he may not have the option of carrying on a Dolohov tradition on top of it.

 

As he put on his robes and stepped out the door, he made a decision to bring up the idea at the right time. It was already a delicate situation, but he had to try for the sake of his heritage if nothing else. But in his heart, he knew it would have made his parents happy to know their only son was carrying on a century’s old family tradition.  

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Antonin stepped through the security clearance at the Ministry, making his way through the atrium to the elevators, then up to the sixth floor. Winding through the familiar halls, he went straight to Sirius’ office. When he knocked lightly on the opened door and peered his head inside, he saw his rehabilitation officer surrounded by papers and grumbling something about _bureaucratic nonsense_. Chuckling to himself, Antonin stepped inside as Sirius waved him in without looking up.

 

Finishing the document before him, Sirius finally shifted his eyes and flashed his signature smile at Antonin drumming his hands on the desktop.  “You're here early today.”

 

"Wasn't entirely intentional considering the night I had. But I wanted to get this over with." Antonin fidgeted in his chair, the old cracked leather crinkling under his weight in protest. "I have to meet Hermione tonight, and I still have some work to do at the shop.”

 

“Way to make a rehab officer feel wanted, Antonin.” Sirius teased as he placed a casual hand over his heart in mock hurt.

 

Antonin groaned, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. “Don't take it personally, Black. Hermione and I still have quite a bit to discuss. Last night didn't necessarily go how either of us would have wanted.”

 

Leaning forward, Sirius rested his elbows on his desk and laced his fingers together. “I was at the Weasley’s for dinner last night. I heard what happened at the shop. From what I was told, you kept a level head. Harry and Ron both spoke highly of your reaction. They said you were a silent support for Hermione.”

 

Shaking his head, Antonin scoffed. “A silent support? _Eto smeshno._ No, Sirius, it took every ounce of my will to maintain control and not hex that miserable bint into nothingness. You should have heard the hateful things she said to Hermione. That woman is utterly-”

 

“ _Hurt_ , Antonin,” Sirius interjected. “ _That_ woman is a _good_ woman who was utterly devastated and forever altered by the loss of her two brothers. Who, might I add, were taken from her by Death Eaters. Might I remind you this was a crime you, yourself, were accused of? I understand you haven't argued the charges against you?” Sirius eyed Antonin as if to ask if there was something he didn't know.  

 

“No, I haven't. Even if I _had_ tried to argue the truth when it would have been relevant, no one would have listened. After the rehabilitation program, I figured it a moot point. What difference would it make now? Sure, I want her to know the truth.  But from what I witnessed yesterday, she wouldn't believe me if I _had_ attempted to talk to her.”

 

Nodding his head in the affirmative, Sirius sighed. “Perhaps, one day she will allow us to help her see reason.” Sirius paused, turning his gaze at Antonin questioningly, “I am curious, though.  If you aren't responsible for killing them, do you know who is? I know you and AJ mentioned you were both summoned away before it happened, but you had to have heard who was responsible.”

 

Antonin surveyed his hands where the pad of his left thumb was rubbing his right palm. He sat in silence for a long moment, hesitating to answer.  He had kept the man's secret all these years, unsure if he should reveal it now. Sighing, he raised his gaze to meet Sirius once again, “Severus Snape is the one responsible for killing them.”

 

Sirius’ jaw dropped, clearly unsure of what to say. “ _Snape_ killed them? I thought he already turned to our side by that time.” Sirius sat back in shock.

 

“From what I later learned, he had changed sides. I've kept his secret of that night for a very long time. He killed them to _spare_ them.” Pausing to collect his thoughts, he sighed before continuing.

 

“The Dark Lord never took kindly to anyone rejecting him. He had sent multiple people over the course of four years after the Twins in an attempt to recruit them. He saw their value - they were pureblood - but also incredibly powerful. I was sent to be their final warning. After I returned with a not-so-kind response to the Dark Lord, their fate was all but sealed. Albion Traverse was one nasty piece of work, and _everyone_ who crossed his path knew his thirst for blood. The Dark Lord decided to punish the Twins, making the mission Traverse’ responsibility. He was arguably even more insane than Bellatrix, even _before_ his time spent in Azkaban, and just as devoted to the Dark Lord. He was deliberate and meticulous in all his attacks, and sadistic and calculated in his methods of torture.

 

Traverse chose his team specifically as a reward for killing a few other Order members. It consisted of myself, AJ, Severus, Augustus Rookwood and Odessa Bulstrode.”

 

Sirius leaned forward with a quizzical look on his face. “Odessa Bulstrode? I've never heard of her.”

 

“She was a newly marked Death Eater at the time and didn't last long. I believe her niece ended up marrying the Nott boy. In any case, Severus was with us on the mission. After AJ and I were summoned away from the attack on the Twins, we didn't know what happened until we returned and I found Severus sick in the hedges of Lestrange Manor. He told me how brutal Traverse was in their torture. Severus was punished with torture himself for killing them too quickly, but he suffered the consequences to spare them any further anguish.”

 

Sirius furrowed his brows in contemplation “Was AJ with you when you found Snape?”

 

“No, I was alone.”

 

Scratching his five o’clock shadow, Sirius leaned in. “Do you mind if I relay this information to Kingsley? I know he was very close with the Twins. It's one of the reasons Molly holds him in such high regards. I have a feeling he would like to know. Perhaps one day Molly will be ready to hear it as well.”

 

Nodding his head slowly, Antonin gave his silent permission.

 

“I know he said he would be in later today. I’ll talk with him when he gets in." Quickly penning a note to Kingsley, he set it to the side for the time being. Turning back to Antonin, he made himself comfortable once more. "Well, let's get the meeting over with so you can get back to your life. I'm certain you have a few things to do before tonight."

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

AJ leisurely made his way down the snow-covered road to the only cafe in Diagon Alley, enjoying the early afternoon winter sun on his face. As he walked by the frosted storefront windows of the many businesses, the more it crossed his mind that Diagon Alley was in desperate need of a quality cafe. It didn’t escape his attention that Antonin dropped a not so subtle hint on more than one occasion that he could run the cafe out of the bookshop. AJ couldn’t argue it would be the perfect spot. With his rehabilitation coming close to an end, he would need to make up his mind on what he wanted to do with his life once he was completely free.

 

 _Freedom_. That was a luxury he hadn't experienced since he was a much younger man. The years he spent in service to the Dark Lord meant he was under his constant control. But to experience true freedom again, not subject to anyone's whims or regulations, was a concept he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. The new imposing law certainly limited those expectations of freedom.

 

Choosing a partner was a life-altering decision in itself, but having someone _else_ choose for you introduced a whole new set of complications he wasn’t quite ready for. Maybe a move back to the States is what he needed if it was even possible.

 

AJ knew his parents disowned him once he made the conscious decision to follow Tom Riddle, but perhaps after all this time, they had changed their minds. Even so, he could still start fresh, choose a place and start a life he could one day look back on and feel proud of, but he still had a bit more time to think about all that. There was, after all, the probationary period before he would be able to leave the country. The closer he got to the end of his rehabilitation and the beginning of his probationary period, the more appealing the idea became.

 

AJ was so lost in thought he didn't notice the two gentlemen walking his way. He collided with one of them and immediately lifted his head to make sure  no physical harm had been done to the other wizard. To his surprise, he was met with a look of utter disdain.

 

“Watch where you're going. You almost knocked my package to the ground.”

 

Raising his hands with a gesture of apology, “I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention. No harm done.” AJ was about to walk away when the other wizard noticed the bottom of his dark mark on his left arm.

 

“I should’ve known. You're one of _them.”_ With a snarl, he shoved the former Death Eater as hard as he could with his shoulder as he moved passed and continued walking.

 

Having been shoved against the brick wall of a storefront, he pushed himself upright, his eyes fell to the back of the fleeting wizard's head. It was that behavior he longed to forget, the biased opinions of do-gooders who refuse to accept forgiveness. He contemplated how the man's fear drove his anger a moment longer before a familiar accent broke his train of thought.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Looking up, his midnight blue eyes met chocolate brown, furrowed with a look of concern across her beautiful face. The witch reached a hand as though to ask if he needed someone to help steady him, and with a small reassuring smile, he quickly realized she was waiting for a response.

 

“Thank you. I'm alright.”

 

Crossing her arms against the bite of the cold London air, she continued. “Are people around here always so warm and friendly?”

 

He smirked at her sarcastic tone. “It's a community of regular Mr Rogers’.”

 

Laughing, she brushed a lock of windblown brunette hair behind her ear. “Really? A No-Maj reference?”

 

“I’m impressed you got it. And I haven’t heard someone use the term _No-Maj_ in quite some time.” He extended a hand to her, “Atticus Jugson, but my friends call me AJ.”

 

Her eyes sparkled as she took his hand. “Rosalie Anberlin. Nice to meet you, Atticus.” He couldn’t help notice how warm her hands felt despite the frigid cold.

 

“Well, Rosalie, since you came to my rescue, let me at least buy you a coffee before you go wherever it is you’re headed.”

 

Her face lit up at the suggestion. “What a wonderful idea, actually. I was heading in that direction already. I'm guessing by your offering, you know of a good cafe to go to?

 

“Diagon Alley is in dire need of a good cafe, but there’s a place not too far up that’s pretty decent.” He motioned for her to join him as he led her across the street to their destination. “Unfortunately after the war, a lot of the businesses that used to be here never reopened. We lost a lot of great places - including cafes. It’s taking a while to get things back up and running again.” AJ held open the door for her.

 

“I don’t know much about the politics of the war, only what I’ve read in the international section of the Magical Tribune and the New York Ghost as it all unfolded. Well aside from the accounts by my friend, who fought in the war, but from what little I _do_ know, it sounds utterly devastating for both sides involved.”

 

The empathy he heard in her voice was something he wasn’t expecting, and it caught him off guard. He was used to people judging the Death Eaters forthright, not expressing compassion about the loss of life they had suffered as a result of the war. He was glad she walked ahead of him as she stood in line. He didn’t want her to see how her statement affected him.

 

The smell of fresh ground coffee permitted the air as cups and saucers went whizzing by in a blur behind the counter as he stepped up beside her, attempting to change the subject. “So I take it you’re not from around here?”

 

“Am I that obvious? I wonder what could have given it away?” Chuckling at her own humor, she smiled up at him. “I’m here visiting a friend.”

 

“A _friend_? May I be so bold as to inquire who the lucky wizard is?”

 

Crossing her arms and arching a single eyebrow, she gave him a look of sheer annoyance. “What makes you think it’s a wizard at all? I’m not one to mince words. Wizard or witch, a friend is a friend and nothing more. Would I be getting a coffee or flirting with another wizard if I was involved with one already? What kind of a witch do you take me for?”  

 

AJ couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his face, “So you're single and admit to flirting with me?”

 

“Seriously? That’s all you took from everything I just said?” She just shook her head and stepped up to the counter. “I’ll take a cinnamon latte please with a light drizzle of caramel.” Reaching for her purse, AJ put a tentative hand to her wrist to stop her.

 

“It’s on me. Please.”

 

Smirking, she cocked her head to the side. “Fine. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

AJ ordered, and Rosalie’s drink appeared on the counter before her.

 

“Well, I should be getting back, but thank you for the coffee, Atticus.”

 

“Please, call me AJ.”

 

“Thank you for the coffee, _AJ.”_ And with a small smile, she turned to leave. He attempted to hold back the disappointment he felt, finding he wanted to talk to her more. She was the first American he had spoken to in so long, and she was a breath of fresh air to his ears. A little piece of a long lost home he wasn’t quite ready to give up so soon. But he put on his best smile, the one he knew always made the ladies weak. “Just like that, you’re leaving?” Taking a sip of his coffee nonchalantly, he met her gaze once more. “When can I see you again?”

 

“I’ll be around. If what you say is true and this is the only cafe in town, I have no doubt we’ll be seeing each other again.” With a flirtatious wink, she turned and walked out the door without a single look back.

 

Feeling a little disappointed at the loss of her company, AJ made his way out the door and down the road to the book shop shortly after. When he heard his name a few steps in, he turned to see Antonin crossing the street toward him.

 

“Getting your early afternoon fix I see,” Antonin smirked and pointed to the coffee cup in AJ’s hand.

 

“Never go a day without it.”

 

“You know, my shop is in desperate need of something to fill the back area . Even Hermione made mentioned how perfect a cafe would be in the little nook. And I won’t lie, it would possibly help drum up business for the shop. You and I both know I could use the help.”

 

“Never were one for subtlety were you?” AJ quipped sarcastically.

 

“I’ve been subtle up to this point, but you’re just being a stubborn arse.”

 

They shared a chuckle as they turned the corner. “No, you just _think_ you’ve been subtle. You’re quite awful at it.”

 

“Because it's completely ridiculous to be subtle about this, ty durak. You’re mere weeks away from completing the program and starting the probationary period, and you have nothing lined up. What else are you going to do? As much as I’m sure the idea of going back to America for a fresh start sounds appealing, remember with this new law in effect you may not be able to leave even...”

 

Antonin’s words trailed off as they approached the bookshop to find a distraught Narcissa Malfoy standing across the street in front of her dress boutique. Draco’s arm was around her shoulders as a swarm of Aurors attempted to clean up what appeared to be a broken storefront window and smearing of some sort across the brick wall and entrance door.

 

Making their way over to where two-thirds of the Malfoy family stood, Antonin placed a tentative hand on Draco’s shoulder as he surveyed the damage more closely. The aurors seemed to be attempting to remove the smear and having a difficult time of it. But the words were loud and clear.

 

_“Death to Death Eaters.”_

 

Antonin and AJ shared a look of concern before Antonin turned back to Draco. “Are you both alright? Were either of you hurt?”

 

“We’re alright, no one was hurt. Mother arrived this morning to find this. You didn’t happen to see anything or anyone did you?”

 

Shaking his head, Antonin responded solemnly. “I’m afraid not. I had an appointment at the ministry this morning, then had some errands to run. I’m only now just getting back.”

 

“Why would they do this?” Narcissa’s voice broke through their conversation, mixed with anger and on the verge of tears when a scowl spread across her feminine features. Storming up to the first Auror she saw, she began with a list of demands and questions about catching the assailant.

 

“It’s getting worse you know. All the hate and animosity against us.” Antonin spoke but never moved his eyes from the building before them.  

 

“Because they are hypocrites in the vilest  sense of the word.” Draco fumed as he watched the curse finally lift from the building. “They preach equality and cry against blood supremacy and condemn violence, all the while acting out against those they choose to hate, regardless of facts or circumstances. They use the very violence they speak against and justify it under the banner of righteousness.”

 

“It’s not only businesses they’re targeting. Had I not kept a level head earlier and let things go, I would’ve found myself in a physical confrontation with two complete strangers who saw a portion of my mark and decided to let me know their displeasure in seeing it _and_ me.” AJ informed.

 

Draco shook his head in disgust. “The longer this continues, the more this will escalate into something _none_ of us wants.”

 

Before Antonin and AJ could respond, the head Auror walked up to Draco. “Could I speak with you a moment, Mr Malfoy?” Nodding his head silently, he turned to Antonin and AJ. “Thank you both for stopping to check in on us.”

 

Antonin gave a slight nod. “If you need anything just us know.”

 

“I will.”

 

Draco followed the auror to where his mother was now standing in the arms of Lucius as Antonin and AJ turned to walk back toward the shop. Antonin waved his wand to lower the wards. In contemplative silence, they both stepped in and removed their coats.

 

“You need to do something to protect this place, Antonin. This isn’t only your livelihood, but your family library is here. We need to come up with a better set of wards.”

 

Walking through the shop, they made their way up to his flat. “I’ve thought about that as well. I think it’s time we use some Dolohov family blood wards.”

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Antonin walked tall and confident through Diagon Alley.  The snow crunched beneath his feet as he broke the thin layer of ice that settled over the top of it. Tonight would inevitably be the night he would plan the rest of his life with one Hermione Granger. He was no longer nervous about it, finding that odd considering how little they actually knew of one another. They didn’t have much time left to plan things out, so he supposed it was for the best to move things on along the way they were.

 

The reveal of this law was mere days away. The world would know, and everyone would have their letters. After two days they would be in the spotlight, and the wizarding world would be watching. While he didn’t want to admit it, if he was going to be forced to go through this with any witch, deep down he was glad it was Hermione.

 

He approached the door and knocked. He waited before hearing faint footsteps growing louder as they approached. The door swung open, and he was greeted by his obviously nervous fiancé.

 

With a slight smile, Hermione waved him in “Good evening, Antonin, please come in.” He stepped in and removed his gloves and coat, placing them on the nearby stand.

Ushering him through the entryway into the living space and through the kitchen. She gestured for him to have a seat at a table nestled into a breakfast nook with a lovely view of the snowcovered Diagon Alley below. A warm dinner of chicken and vegetables was already waiting and smelled divine.

 

Situating herself across from him she proceeded to pour them both a glass of wine. “I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of fixing us both a plate. I was hoping to get right down to business and hammer out some details of the upcoming events as we eat. Is that alright with you?”

 

Nodding his head in agreement he smirked and added, “With our track record it might be for the best. At this rate, if we have any more interruptions or distractions, we won’t get anything accomplished.” Chuckling as he placed a napkin on his lap.

 

Taking a sip of his wine, he watched as Hermione pulled out a small muggle notebook and pen and opened her notes. Cutting a fork full of chicken, he was amused as she began making a clicking noise with the pen. He was finding her nervousness endearing and waited for her to begin when she looked up to meet his gaze.

 

“Kingsley came by this morning and informed me that we do not have any restrictions on the ceremony itself, so all of the wedding details are apparently up to us.”

 

“How kind of the Ministry.”

 

“Hmm, Indeed. Nonetheless, I thought we could start with the date. It would help narrow down the location. I’ve looked into a few different places already.” she paused and hesitated a moment before looking back up at him. “If you don’t mind, I would prefer to wait until the very last day possible. We’re essentially being forced into this marriage, and I don’t much care to rush things.”

 

A wave of relief flooded Antonin, he was hoping she wouldn’t insist on rushing things just to be done with it and not drag it out. He would’ve been fine either way, but he was happy she chose to wait. “Of course, whatever you wish.”

 

“Splendid. So the last day of January then.” she scribbled notes, took a sip of her wine and continued. “I have a few different venues but before I continue, are there any wishes you have for the wedding that we should take into consideration?”

 

Pausing as he took the last bite of his vegetables, he initially wanted to wait to discuss the Russian traditions with her, not wanting to scare her off. But since she asked he felt now would be good a time as any. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair and met her gaze. “There is something but you will, no doubt, need time to think it over and research before giving me a response.” The nerves that had evaded him earlier were suddenly back.

 

Hermione must have picked up on this fact because she sat back and crossed her arms waiting for him to continue. “I’m listening.”

 

“Since as far back as my family history is recorded, every marriage has been performed under one of the old magic Russian ceremonies. There are a few different rituals, but the particular ceremony my family has favored is one that permanently bonds the souls and the magical cores. Its meant to strengthen to union along with each individuals magic. It's usually performed at night under the stars in very simple garments.”

 

“Is there blood magic involved?”

 

“Yes. I understand completely if you do not wish that kind of union together. But I would appreciate it if you would at the very least research it for yourself and consider it.”

 

She sat in silence just staring down at the table with no readable expression. Now more than ever Antonin  wished he could read her thoughts, but he wouldn’t dare.

 

“I’ll admit, my first inclination is to say no. But I’m willing to read about the different ceremonies if you’ll provide the material. I will absolutely not promise anything.”

 

At least she was willing to read about them, he was hoping that would appeal to her thirst for knowledge and keep her from saying no immediately.

 

“Fair enough. I’ll have Rodion deliver the books to you tonight. I appreciate your willingness to think it over. I’ve no doubt the guest list will have an impact on your final decision as well.”

 

Lifting her brows in a quizzical expression “How so?”

 

“Well, I’m certain there will be Muggles there. I’m sure it will be quite a different experience compared to what they consider traditional.”

 

At this, she immediately tensed up and picked up her pen as she scribbled notes.

 

“We won’t have to worry about that. There won’t be any Muggles in attendance.”

 

“What about your parents?”

 

“They won’t be attending.”

 

Sitting back he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not? If I had a daughter, I

wouldn’t miss her wedding.”

 

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Let’s just say they didn’t survive the war.”

 

Relaxing his shoulders, his hands fell to his lap. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, myshka.”

 

Snorting she looked at him with a look of derision. “Are you really? Because it was Death Eaters I tried to protect them from. Death Eaters that would seek to hurt them to get to me. I lost them because I had to protect them from a world they’re powerless against.”

 

A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins as he felt his fists clench in his lap leveling a glare at her and lowering his voice, “Ya ne sobirayus' prokhodit' cherez eto snova. Hermione, I will not go through this with you again. I had nothing to do with whatever happened to your parents, and I will not be the one you blame.”

 

Crossing her arms, she looked down at the to-do list before them. Her jaw tightened and relaxed before moving her eyes up to meet his. “I’m trying to be civil through all of this, Antonin. But I can’t be expected to just flip a switch and be alright with this whole thing. I know it’s happening, and I know we have to accept it, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I’m really trying.”

 

“Grebanaya lozh’, ” Antonin scoffed. “Are you though? Every time I see you it’s another argument about my past. Yesterday you said you would move forward yet, here we are again, full circle.”

 

He paused as realization struck him. Tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrowed, “What do you mean, _let’s just say they didn’t survive_? Either they survived the war or not, there’s usually no grey area.” Leaning forward he rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “What are you not telling me?”

 

Judging from her widened eyes and rigid posture he could tell he hit on something. Then her gaze went cold. “I don’t see how this is any of your concern. My family matters are my own private affairs.”

 

He dropped his head in defeat. If she refused to talk to him, he couldn’t help her. He had to soften her defenses to get to the bottom of this secret. He ran a hand over his face and took a moment to gaze out the window at the now falling snow. Looking back at her, she was now fidgeting in her seat. She was a terrible liar. Taking a deep breath, he softened his voice. “Moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, please. What if it’s something I can help you with?”

 

Her eyes seemed to soften a bit at his plea. “You can’t help me. No one can.”

 

Reaching across the table, he held his hand out to her. “Unless you tell me, how do you know for sure? You are going to be my wife, if I can help you, I want to.”

 

Her eyes seemed to be deep in contemplation as she looked down at his hand and closed her eyes. When she lifted her eyes once more, he was surprised to see them welling up with emotion as soft tears slowly trickled down her face. “I don’t know if I can handle another failure. I’ve come to terms with it. I can’t get my hopes up again only to be crushed when it doesn’t happen.”

 

He took advantage of her hands resting on the table and laced the fingers of his extended hand with hers. He was pleased to see she didn’t flinch or pull away from him. “Myshka, if you did something to protect them from whatever could’ve happened that’s a noble sacrifice. But simply telling me what happened doesn’t mean we have to go run and try to fix things. At the very least tell me and let me research it. Now, what happened?”

 

He could feel her hand tremble as she wiped tears away with the other. She sniffed and squared her shoulders as she took a deep breath. “I did the only thing I could do in the situation I was in. The Order was a mess and in no position to lend any protection outside of complex wards around their home and office. I knew whoever attacked would have eventually been able to breach  whatever wards were placed. At Hogwarts, I spent a lot of time in the restricted section of the library trying desperately to come up with a solution that would keep them alive. I came across a book on memory charms. A lot of the spells were borderline dark arts. There was one in particular that stood out to me. So the summer before we went on the run, I spent every moment I could with them. Then when I knew I couldn’t wait any longer, I altered their memories. I used a particular obliviation charm I read about and wiped my entire existence from their lives. Then I sent them to Australia under a different name to get them out of the country.”

 

Antonin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A witch only barely of age, successfully casting such a complex, intricate charm was almost unheard of. She really did live up to her reputation of being the brightest witch of her age. He couldn’t help the pride that swelled within him at the thought of such a witch being his. He quickly pushed it aside as his thumb slowly rubbed circles on the back of her hand.

 

What she didn’t know was that charms happened to be a strength of AJ. He would keep that to himself for the moment, but if he could get his hands on the exact spell she used, he could have AJ look it over. If Hermione considered the book borderline dark arts, he probably had it in his family library. “Would you recognize the book if you saw it again, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze he continued, “Then do me a favor and come to the shop in two days. Christmas Eve is tomorrow then the news will be announced to everyone the day after Christmas. I want you to enjoy your holiday, but there’s something I want to show you.”

 

“Yes, I can do that.”

 

At that moment her floo roared to life, and a female voice with an American accent called out to Hermione.

 

“Hey, I’m back. Something smells wonderful. What did you make?”

 

Their attention diverted from the conversation to the kitchen entryway as a brunette witch stopped in her tracks at the sight of them.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt.”

 

Antonin turned his gaze back to Hermione, who he was pleased to see was still holding his hand. She looked slightly annoyed at the intrusion and gave the other witch a look that let her know.

 

The brunette shrugged and continued, “I completely forgot. But I’m just gonna grab a plate of whatever this is and disappear again.” She gestured to the stove top and rushed over to fill a plate with food.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, “Antonin, this is my friend Rosalie, she’s staying with me while she’s in town. Rosalie, Antonin. My fiancé, for all intents and purposes.” Antonin bit back the smirk at her tone but was glad to have an excuse to smile. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, a small part of him rather liked having Hermione refer to him as her fiancé. As much as he objected to being forced into a union with someone who wasn’t of his choosing, he was growing fond of the idea of being married to Hermione. He turned to the direction of Rosalie as he gave a nod and small smile.

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Antonin. I’m certain we’ll have the opportunity to get to know one another soon. I am sorry for the intrusion.” With that Rosalie gave a slight smile and a friendly nod of her head as she made her way out to the other room, plate in hand.

 

Antonin turned his gaze to Hermione, he held back a smirk when he caught her staring at him with a look in her eyes he couldn’t quite distinguish. She quickly averted her eyes and released his hand. Busying herself with vanishing the dishes to the sink she seemed distant. He took the last sip of his wine as they sat in awkward silence. When he was about to begin saying his goodbye, she spoke again.

 

“What makes you think you could do something to bring them back? Harry and I both tried everything we knew. We stayed for months and researched different ways to reverse the charm. What makes you think you could do something we haven’t already tried?”

 

Sighing he ran a hand through his hair and met her gaze. Her hazel eyes were wrought with a mix of so many emotions, had he actually been in love with her, it might have broken his heart to see it.

 

“Moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, you described the book you took the spell from as borderline dark arts. What makes you think you tried everything? You may have tried everything you knew to search for, but there’s so much more Hogwarts would never teach you about the dark arts. You may be surprised to find a lot of what’s referred to as _dark_ , might not truly be so dark after all.”

 

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten your argument regarding the subject. I’ll admit, you have the academic in me intrigued if nothing else.” Pausing she met his gaze and her warm eyes seem to linger on his. He attempted to suppress his lips from curling into a lopsided grin, and she immediately redirected her focus.

 

“Well, it’s getting late. I suppose we should probably call it a night.” Hermione stood and led Antonin through the living space where his focus landed on a familiar stack of vintage books on the coffee table. One had a bookmark at about the halfway point. A smile spread across his face as he turned back to her.

 

“As you see, I couldn't wait to read them. _Petals and Dreamscapes_ is a delightful story so far.”

 

“I’m pleased you’re enjoying them.”

 

“Would you like to use the floo?” She asked as he Antonin put on his coat and gloves.

 

“Thank you for your concern, I’ll be just fine.”

 

“Have a good night Antonin.”

 

Turning to leave he hesitated a moment then turned back to her.

 

“You realize, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, the next time we see one another the world will know.”

 

“Yes, I’ve thought about that as well.”

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Are any of us?”

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Russians Translations ~

 

 _Moya malen'kaya l'vitsa -_ my little lioness

 

 _Pizdec tvoyu mat! Blyaha muha!_ \- this is used in the Russian language to express many different emotions. 

 

Chyort! Uzhasnyy koshmar! - 

 

 _Eto smeshno -_ that’s laughable

 

 _Ya ne sobirayus' prokhodit' cherez eto snova_ -I’m not going to go through it again

 

 _Grebanaya lozh’ -_ Fucking lies


End file.
